


Guiding Light

by Diaryofanarcissisticgayman



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A Lot Of Them Actually, Abandonment, And he has a scar, Angst, Car Accidents, Denial of Feelings, Gemma is just kind of around, Harry Styles is bad at feelings, Harry and Niall are their normal ages, Harry is a lighthouse keeper, Harry is in a really dark place, I'm Sorry, Liam and Louis are both 25, Luke and Ashton are both 26, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Married Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Niall is bad at handling things, Niall is his former friend, Not Really Character Death, Oh My God, So much angst, Storms, Survivor Guilt, Trigger warnings:, mild ocd, not onscreen though, stuck together in a storm, they own a pub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:39:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 117,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5856253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman/pseuds/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn’t mind being isolated though. Not any more than he minds anything else, that is. He spends his days alone, and he’s gotten used to it. He never really liked people anyways. It was only really just a few people that he ever genuinely liked, only one that he ever really wanted around, and they’re all long gone from his life, save for his sister.</p><p>Harry shakes the thoughts of him out of his head, and makes his way back down the stairs. If he’s going to be stranded by the storm, then he’ll need to go into town for supplies. Besides, it’s Sunday. Harry always goes shopping on Sunday. It’s when the fishermen come in with their weekend hauls, and the farmers bring in their produce and animal products, so everything is at its freshest. As a bonus, half of the town is in church, so there are fewer people around. </p><p>Harry always prefers dealing with fewer people. It means that there are less people to stare and gossip. There are less people to point and whisper things, as if he can’t hear them. As if he can’t see all on his own that he’s a phantom, haunting this small village with his presence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thoseguitarists](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoseguitarists/gifts).



> So, this came into being from a conversation I was having with Amanda, where was just pissing around, and she said 'Write me this fic'. And, because I'm weak, I agreed. It got out of hand real fucking quick, and here we are. The cat is named after her because it's slightly evil.

Harry wakes up to the raucous shrieking of sea birds. He always does, and he always starts his day off the same way, with a grumbled curse and a wish for a gun. Amanda huffs out a sigh when Harry throws his legs over the side of the bed, scowling as best as a cat can and jumping to the ground to stretch languidly before flopping onto her stomach. She might as well have stayed in the bed like she normally does.

Harry ignores her as he makes his way through the bedroom, grabbing an outfit at random from his wardrobe before heading to take his shower. The water, as always, is freezing, and Harry rushes through cleaning himself to get away from the frigid chill before it can sink into his bones. That’s what the rest of the day is for.

He proves his own negative thoughts right about fifteen minutes later, stepping out of the front door to his cottage, and making his way towards the tower next to it. There’s a bitter cold in the air, a bite that makes his scar ache from the second that he steps outside. He’s twenty one, but he feels sixty. The spiral staircase leading to the top of the tower seems never ending. It always does. 

There are constants in Harry’s life, devoid as it is of anything real or good. He always wakes up with only his cat. His showers are always cold. His calves always ache when he climbs the stairs. He always writes in his journals. He’s always alone, he’s always angry, and he’s always missing something. His life is built on a stream of constants, and that thought hits him harder and harder every day, bulldozing him into some mechanical construct that looks and sounds like Harry, but isn’t really him. It hasn’t been for a while. Not for over two years.

He checks the gauges when he reaches the top of the stairs, writing down the measurements in the same tidy scrawl he always does. The weather is clear for now, despite the low grey clouds in the sky, and he can see the fierce blue-green of the ocean breaking for miles from his vantage. He knows by instinct that a storm will hit in the next few days though. He can feel it in the air, can smell it and taste it when he closes his eyes. It’s going to be strong. Probably strong enough to leave him isolated when the road into town goes to shit. It always does.

Harry doesn’t mind being isolated though. Not any more than he minds anything else, that is. He spends his days alone, and he’s gotten used to it. He never really liked people anyways. It was only really just a few people that he ever genuinely liked, only one that he ever really wanted around, and they’re all long gone from his life, save for his sister.

Harry shakes the thoughts of him out of his head, and makes his way back down the stairs. If he’s going to be stranded by the storm, then he’ll need to go into town for supplies. Besides, it’s Sunday. Harry always goes shopping on Sunday. It’s when the fishermen come in with their weekend hauls, and the farmers bring in their produce and animal products, so everything is at its freshest. As a bonus, half of the town is in church, so there are fewer people around. 

Harry always prefers dealing with fewer people. It means that there are less people to stare and gossip. There are less people to point and whisper things, as if he can’t hear them. As if he can’t see all on his own that he’s a phantom, haunting this small village with his presence.

As he climbs back down the lighthouse, he trails his fingers along the stone to keep himself from falling. He’s not sure why. Nobody would miss him when he’s gone except for Gemma, and maybe Amanda. Maybe. As long as somebody feeds her, she probably won’t care one way or the other.

He climbs into his shitty old car, flipping down the visor to pull out the key. Nobody ever comes out here, so there’s no risk of it getting stolen. He’s not sure he’d care if it were. He hates driving, hates the way that everything moves too fast and the way that his scar burns when he’s behind the wheel. Unfortunately, it’s four kilometers to get into town, and no bus comes out far enough to make it worthwhile.

He makes a stop at the main house, grabbing the note that Gemma has taped inside the door’s lamp. He burns himself on the bulb. He always does. 

He sucks on his fingers while he goes over Gemma’s grocery list, sighing as he notices that she’s yet again forgotten to add any money to the envelope. She always does.

He can pay for everything on his own, has more money than he needs since he only spends any on food. It just sits in his account, taunting him with its ill gained fortune. It still frustrates him that she just expects it now, though.

The journey into town is a mirror of Harry’s mood, barren and grey and harsh. The upcoming winter has flattened the countryside, turning the rolling emerald hills a mottled brown that contrasts starkly with the steely clouded sky. The ocean breeze permeates everything, leaving the scent and flavor of salt hanging wherever you go. It always does.

Harry used to love that. He used to live for the wind blowing around him and the harsh bite of the sea. He used to love the metallic taste of it, could lie on his back for hours on the cliffs, doing nothing more than breathing it in and letting it have its way with him.

That was a long time ago, though. At least, it feels that way. It feels like another place and time and life. One filled with color and light and laughter. It’s only been two years, but it’s been enough time to change Harry into a completely different person. To leave him nothing more than a battered shadow.

The streets are deserted when Harry makes it into town, and Harry breathes out a sigh of relief. He doesn’t look anyone in the eye as he makes his way through the market, doesn’t want to see the looks in their eyes as they catch on his scar, doesn’t want to see the way they stare with a mixture of disgust and pity. They always do.

He doesn’t talk to anyone either, just passes over his list as well as Gemma’s, and then silently hands them their change when they pack up his things. He’s enough of a fixture in town that people know how he does things, and they always cross off whatever they’ve given him so that he doesn’t have to speak. They never speak to him either, and Harry isn’t surprised. He doesn’t have anything worth saying.

There’s a new stall at the end of the line, and Harry is hesitant to go near it, but his usual vendors are all out of clams, and this one has them all sitting right out in the open. Normally he’d skip it, would make do with what he has already, but they’re from Gemma’s list, and she can be a real pain if Harry doesn’t get her everything she asked for. She takes it as a jibe or insult, and then pesters him endlessly until he snaps and drives her away again. It’s always exhausting.

So he resigns himself to hauling his load over to the new person and hopes he can rush through it. Whoever is running the stall is sleeping in a chair, feet kicked up on a bucket with a cap pulled over his face. There’s a sign sticking out of the ice-bed that holds the clams, listing the price, and Harry quickly loads a bag with them, placing it in the scale until it hits the required two pounds that Gemma had asked for. He places a twenty pound note on the counter, and starts to scribble out a note telling the vendor how much he’d taken, and to keep the change.

The man wakes up though, and before Harry can escape without having to interact directly, he says, “Sorry about that. Guess I fell asleep.”

Harry freezes at the voice, eyes going wide and hands trembling. It isn’t possible. It isn’t right. It isn’t a constant. He was a constant, was an ever present piece of the puzzle that constitutes Harry’s life, and then he was gone, like so many other pieces. He was a constant, and then the constant was that he was gone. Niall Horan is not a constant, and Harry shakes with the tilt this puts on his world.

“It’s early as balls, mate. Don’t know how you all do it.” Niall says through a yawn, face still covered, though this time it’s by the fists rubbing sleepily at his eyes. He always does that. “What do you need?”

“Clams.” Harry says quickly, ducking his head before Niall can raise his eyes. His voice is rough, gravelly from disuse and the scar that runs down his forehead and around across his throat. It hits him then that he hasn’t spoken in three days. That’s the last time that he was with Gemma, the last time anyone cared enough to put up with him. “Got them already, and I left the money for you.”

“Mind if I weight those?” Niall asks lightly, trying to see Harry’s face even as he conceals it by pulling up his scarf more and pushing his beanie further down. “No offense, but I don’t know you, and you seem kind of fidgety.”

He doesn’t sound accusatory, doesn’t speak to Harry in the same way that the rest of the people in town do. Then again, he doesn’t know that it’s Harry. All he sees is a stranger with a scar across his half-hidden face. To be fair, that’s all he really is. Niall wouldn’t know this Harry, wouldn’t recognize or acknowledge or like this Harry. The Harry that Niall knew is long gone.

He thrusts the bag forward, handing it off to Niall to weigh. The wait makes him anxious, makes his skin crawl with something that he can’t identify. There’s something in his chest, heavy and hard, that he hasn’t felt in a long time. An easy kind of happiness that he always associated with Niall. There’s something stronger wrapped around it though. Fear. An absolute sense of dread is gripping him, digging in claws that are threatening to tear him apart from all the invisible cracks laced over the surface of his skin.

“I knew it.” Niall says with a smirk as the scale balances. “You can’t fool me that easily. I may be new to this game, but I’m not stupid.”

“I – I wasn’t trying to-” Harry stammers.

“You overpaid, mate.” Niall muses, opening the lid to his little cashbox. “I don’t want to make a dishonest living.”

“Keep it.” Harry chokes out, grabbing the sack off of the counter and dropping it in with his other bags. He’s squashed two of the loaves of bread, but he’ll just take those ones and give Gemma the two others. He flees with his supplies, rushing through the market that’s steadily beginning to fill as people leave their places of worship to congregate in the square to escape from Niall, who he can hear calling after him.

He nearly crashes into a mother and child, but manages to pivot in time to avoid hitting them. Instead he bumps into the wall, dropping his bags with the wince that comes from running full force into bricks. He drops down to his knees to gather everything back into the bags, and makes that most fatal of mistakes. He looks up. He looks up and the little girl sees his scar completely when his scarf dislodges and bursts into tears, wailing as she scrambles backwards and hides behind her mother’s skirt.

“I’m sorry.” Harry rasps out, grabbing his bags and standing back up. “I’m so sorry.”

The run back to the car leaves him breathless, and he doesn’t even bother opening the boot. He just shoves everything in the back seat and then climbs in, racing away just as Niall enters the parking area with notes clutched in his hand. He calls after Harry’s car, but it doesn’t change Harry’s mind. He can’t go back there, can’t give Niall the chance to see this Harry. He never will.

 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Gemma huffs, staring down at Harry from where he’s crouched to place her food on the stoop. “You know that you’re supposed to bring them inside.”

“Gem, I-” Harry starts to argue, but he’s cut off with a sharp look from his sister, and he knows that fighting is useless.

“Every three days. That’s the agreement.” Gemma says sternly, opening up the door and waiting for Harry to step inside before closing it. “That way I know that you haven’t gone and tripped off of the cliff or something.”

“I don’t go anywhere near the cliff.” Harry mutters, carting her food into the kitchen. 

He’ll shop for her, and bring it in, but he draws the line at putting it away when he’s being forced into the house against his will. So he drops the bags gracelessly onto the counter and then takes a seat at the table. Gemma scoffs at him, but apparently knows when to pick her battles. She sets the kettle to boil before she starts unpacking everything.

“I don’t see why I have to come in to prove that I’m not dead.” Harry sighs after a minute. “Do you really think that I’d waste my time as a ghost by picking up your shopping?”

“What else do you have to do?” Gemma fires back. And, yeah, that’s kind of true. Even if Harry were a ghost, it’s not like he’d have anything to put his attention on. He can’t haunt himself any more than he already does as a living person, though the term is relative when it comes to him.

“Whatever.” Harry huffs, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window. The hills hide his cottage from view, but the top of the lighthouse still peeks out over them.

“Did you hear about Liam and Louis’ award?” Gemma asks.

“No.” Harry says simply. It’s always his answer. Nobody talks to him except Gemma, so he never knows about anything before she does.

“Apparently the pub won some kind of local eatery award for the county.” Gemma explains, barely waiting for Harry’s response before she starts. “It’s going to be in some guide book. He and Liam are having a celebration for it tonight.”

“Where are you going with this, Gem?” Harry asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion from the easy, calming tone she’s using. It’s the one that means she wants something.

“They asked if you’d come.” Gemma admits. “And I was hoping you would too.”

“Absolutely not.” Harry answers immediately. “You know that I don’t go out, Gemma.”

“You’re overreacting, Harry.” Gemma sighs. “It’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“A child fucking cried because of me today, Gemma.” Harry spits out, slamming his hands on the table and making his sister jump. “A little girl fucking bawled when she saw my face. It is that bad. Stop trying to tell me it isn’t. I own a fucking mirror. I see it every god damned day, and it’s exactly as bad as I think it is.”

“Stop being so vain.” Gemma snaps.

“Vain?” Harry roars, standing up from the table so fast the chair clatters to the floor. “You think I don’t go out because I’m ugly now? Do you even remember how I got this? It’s a fucking physical reminder of my sin, Gemma, and every time someone sees it, they know what I did. Every single person in this town knows what happened. It has nothing to do with being vain. It’s fucking shame, and you know it.”

“Harry-” Gemma says softly, eyes filling with pity and tears in equal amounts. “You’re scaring me.”

“Join the rest of them, then.” Harry bites out, making his way for the door. “I scare everyone else, too. I’m just fine being alone.”

Gemma catches him by the elbow before he can leave, and whispers, “You don’t have to be alone, Harry. Nobody blames you.”

“I do.” is all Harry says before he wrenches his arm out of her grasp and storms out of the house.

He drives down to the cottage, grabbing the rest of the food from the back seat, and takes it inside quickly. Amanda skitters away when he enters, used to Harry’s moods enough to know when he should be left alone. He doesn’t even bother unpacking the food, just crams the bags in the refrigerator to be dealt with later.

Right now there’s only one thing on his mind. A constant. Something to bring a little balance back into his life before he tilts off of the edge of it. He takes a seat at the desk, flipping open his journal to the last spot that he left off. There’s something haunting about the fact that it’s the final page. Something ominous.

He begs and pleads with his mind to come up with something, anything to fill this blank space with. The other twenty-three identical journals that line the shelf overhead are filled cover to cover with stories and poems and songs. Anything that came to mind once he had the pen in his hand. But now, when he needs it the most, the only thing that he can manage to put on the page is a simple two word sentence. ‘He’s back.’


	2. Chapter 2

He ends up apologizing to Gemma late in the evening, driving back over and swallowing his pride, though he doesn’t tell her the reason for the sudden shift in his mood. Not that his normal mood is much better. Despite the fact that she’s pushy and judgmental and rude, she’s his sister. She’s the only person left in his life, and he doesn’t ever mean to hurt her. He’s done that far too much and too deeply to ever want that again.

So, he ends up agreeing to drive her to the party, with a promise that he doesn’t have to talk to anyone. He’s there as her designated driver, and that’s it. He has no interest in joining the rest of the raucous group gathered around the place, talking and laughing and singing pub songs at the top of their lungs, all already intoxicated on the free drinks that Louis and Liam are offering in celebration of their accomplishment.

And they deserve it. They really do. They built this place from the ground up at a very young age. They came into town on a bus six years ago, unable to get any farther away from the families that had disowned them for their relationship. They had ten pounds between them when Louis managed to weasel his way into a card game. Two hours of bluffing later, Louis had managed to gain the two of them over seven hundred quid.

Harry’s father, one of the men swindled by Louis’ graceless charm, had liked Louis, had liked his spunk and his determination. So he’d offered them a place to stay. They lived in the cottage before Harry did, Liam doing odd jobs around town, and Louis keeping up the lighthouse.

Before long, they’d built up enough of a savings to get a loan, which they used to turn a rundown old diner into the center of village life. They live above the pub in a flat that they’d had to put back together with their own hands. Five years after opening, they’re winning an award for the best eatery in the county. Harry’s happy for them, he really is, but they’re not a part of his life. They’re from the old Harry’s life, and this Harry has no right to be a part of theirs. They’ve fought too hard for themselves to have to put up with this Harry.

He sneaks off to an unoccupied booth in the back as soon as he and Gemma enter, keeping his scarf up and his hat low, despite the sweltering heat that fills the place from so many bodies being packed inside. He keeps his head down, hoping not to be noticed. He even puts his back towards the door for good measure, so as not to scare off any patrons. It doesn’t last long.

“Mind if I take a seat?” a soft, familiar voice asks.

“Won’t be much of a host if you join the town leper.” Harry mutters. He shouldn’t have trusted Gemma’s promise. It was never just hers to keep. “But it’s your pub. I can’t stop you.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here.” Liam says quietly, sliding into the opposite side of the booth. “Since I’ve seen you anywhere, actually.”

“Don’t like to go out.” Harry says with a shrug, keeping his eyes averted towards his own hands under the table.

“We’ve missed you, you know.” Liam murmurs, followed by the sound of him pushing a glass across the table.

“I don’t-” Harry starts.

“Drink. I know.” Liam cuts him off. “If you’d look up from your lap, you’d see that it’s water.”

“Sorry.” Harry sighs. “I just– It’s been a while since I’ve been near someone besides Gemma.”

“I know.” Liam says gently. His lips tilt up in a smile when Harry finally lifts his eyes. He looks older than the last time Harry saw him. There’s something more mature about him now, a refinement that wasn’t there the last time that they were in each other’s presence. He wears it well. It’s easy to see why Louis fell for him, the strapping lad with the hard jaw and the soft eyes. “That’s exactly what I was saying. It’s been a while since I saw you, green eyes.”

“Don’t call me that.” Harry says with a snort, darting his eyes back to the table. “Always made Louis jealous. I’ve been on the shit end of one too many of his attempted beatings already, thank you. Might actually hit him back this time.”

“Looks like that would do a fair bit of damage.” Liam chuckles. “You’ve grown a bit since I saw you last. D’you install a gym down at the lighthouse?”

“Just some old equipment from the attic.” Harry mumbles. “It’s gotta be from like, nineteen-eighty or summat. There was an unopened Jane Fonda workout video in one of the boxes.”

“Christ!” Liam barks out a loud laugh.

“Don’t judge.” Harry says with a small grin that feels foreign and unfamiliar on his lips. “Does wonders for the thighs and buttocks.”

“Proper man of steel you are.” Liam hums. “The hair throws it off though. How long is it now?”

“Fourteen inches, I think?” Harry says. “Haven’t had it cut. Don’t want to force some poor hairdresser to look at my mug for half an hour. Besides, who really notices the hair?”

“I did.” Liam points out.

“I’ll bet you the ownership of this pub that it wasn’t the first thing you looked at.” Harry says flatly, all traces of humor immediately vacating his system at the pitying note laced under Liam’s words.

“You’d lose that bet.” Liam says firmly, staring unwaveringly into Harry’s eyes. There’s a strength there, a will of iron that tells Harry that he isn’t lying, and isn’t backing down like most people do when Harry’s claws come out. “Could ask Lou if you don’t believe me. Soon as you walked through the door, I grabbed him and asked if that was you, because the last time I saw you, your hair was so much shorter and curlier.”

“Where is your worse half?” Harry asks, hoping that a change of subject will help him backpedal out of the hole he’s already digging for himself.

“We weren’t sure how well you’d handle both of us at once.” Liam tells him bluntly. “Actually, I wasn’t sure. He hasn’t changed. He’s still as loud and brash as he ever was, and I didn’t want him driving you away before you even had anything to eat or drink.”

“If he doesn’t want me here, then I’ll leave.” Harry mutters, scooting towards the edge of the booth.

“That’s not what I meant.” Liam says quickly, reaching a hand out to grab Harry’s wrist, making the younger lad flinch away at the contact. Liam throws his hands up in surrender and says, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t saying that Louis doesn’t want you here. He does. We both do. All I was saying is that I was afraid he’d be too intense of a submersion back into village life. I didn’t want you to run away because he was too much for you to handle so fast. My husband has a lot of good qualities, but he’s not exactly tactful. Or good at personal space, for that matter.”

“I’m not getting back into village life, Liam.” Harry says quietly, staying put near the edge of the booth. “I’m just here to drive Gemma back so that nobody gets hurt.”

“Does that mean that it’s going to be another two years before I see you again?” Liam asks.

“Why do you care?” Harry asks weakly, curling in on himself and wrapping his arms around his stomach. It’s an old habit, one from when he was young and scared of everything. One from before Niall ever showed up in his life. It seems all sorts of things are creeping out of his past today. “Why do you give a fuck how long it is before you see me again?”

“Because I missed you, Harry.” Liam sighs. “We both did. We still do. You’re like a brother to us. I’m worried about you always being alone up there.”

“It’s not any of your business.” Harry says icily, squeezing his eyes shut and willing Liam to leave. To just go. To disappear like everyone else.

For once today, things go Harry’s way. The distinctive squeal of the leather seat signals Liam’s exit from the booth. Harry breathes out a sigh of relief that quickly turns into a sharp inhale when a pair of lips presses to his forehead right above his scar.

“I’m here whenever you’re ready to stop being alone, green eyes.” Liam mumbles into Harry’s skin before the heavy thud of his boots tells of his departure. 

Louis barely gives Harry any time to recover control of his breathing before he shows up, not even bothering to ask permission before settling in across from Harry.

“You know, if you were anyone else, I’d smack you for getting a kiss out of my husband.” Louis hums, twirling around the straw in his drink to make the ice clink harshly against the glass. He always does that, and it’s always irritated Harry. “Think I’ll let it go for you though. Special occasion and all.”

“Congratulations on the award.” Harry mutters, wrapping his fingers around his glass in the hopes that the cold will make it appear as if he’s shivering, rather than the trembling of nerves that it truthfully is.

“S’not what I’m talking about, is it?” Louis asks. “I’m referring to the rare double sighting of the elusive Styles Sasquatch in town. Heard about your little collision at the market this morning. Heard you flew out of there like a bat out of hell, too. And I have a pretty good idea as to why.”

“Louis-” Harry growls warningly. “Don’t.”

“He’s not been in town two days, and you two manage to find each other, even though some of us haven’t seen you in years.” Louis continues, unfazed by Harry’s flare up of temper. “Fancy that. From what I hear though, I don’t think he knew it was you. Hiding from him, Styles?”

“Shut up.” Harry snarls.

“Never been good at that.” Louis snorts. “What I am good at is sussing out the truth. Now, pray tell, why are you hiding from Niall?”

“I’m not bloody hiding.” Harry hisses at him.

“You’ve been hiding for two years.” Louis fires back. “Which, coincidentally, is the same amount of time that your Irish sunshine has been gone for. Go figure.”

“What do you want, Louis?” Harry asks harshly.

“I already told you.” Louis smirks. “I want to know why Niall Horan and you saw each other today, but only one of you knew who the other was.”

“He didn’t recognize me.” Harry mutters. “Is that what you want to hear? He didn’t even know who I was, and it was a bloody relief. This stupid fucking scar has had one upside in the last two years, and that was it. I have no interest in seeing or talking to him. That’s why I left so quickly. I didn’t want him to realize who I once was, and think that we might still matter to one another.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Louis scoffs. “I know better than that. I know the truth. He never stopped mattering to you.”

“Back off before I make you, Louis.” Harry orders. “I came here for Gemma, not to listen to you act like you know a god damned thing about my life anymore.”

“I know that this self-pity streak of yours needs to end sooner, rather than later.” Louis says calmly, eyes hard and filled with a level of steel-solid resolve that Harry can only match with his anger.

“What I do with my life isn’t your fucking concern!” Harry snaps. “Not how I spend my days, and most certainly not whether or not I speak to Niall bloody Horan!”

He feels on edge now, like he’s teetering over the lip of a volcano, and nobody will be safe if he falls in. And he knows he should pull back, should rein himself in before anybody else gets hurt by him, but he’s tempted, so tempted, to let himself fall in and watch the destruction unfold. Because he’s safe in the inferno. He can’t burn when his anger burns just as hot, just as mercilessly. Nothing can hurt him when he’s already hurting himself.

He never gets the chance to unleash his wrath though, never gets to pit his flames against Louis’ steel, because those blue eyes dart towards the door, and Louis smirks before saying, “Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. I was wondering when he’d show up. Never could turn down a free drink.”

Harry doesn’t even bother looking. He knows when Louis is bluffing, knows the different glints in his eyes, and he’s telling the truth.

Harry climbs out of the booth instantly, scrambling towards the bar to catch Gemma by the elbow and tell her, “I’m leaving. If you want a ride, then you are too.”

“It’s only been ten minutes.” Gemma whines.

“Find somewhere to stay, with someone you trust, and I’ll pick you up in the morning.” Harry says, already pivoting on his heel before the words are out of his mouth. “Don’t trust anyone to drive you.”

There’s a back exit to the pub, one past the office and the loos, through the kitchen. Customers aren’t supposed to use it, but Harry doesn’t care as he makes a break for it. He nearly topples two waiters on his mad dash, definitely spilled a tray of drinks down Liam’s shirt, but nothing stops him from running.

He never should have let Gemma convince him to come out. It was a mistake. This whole day has been a mistake from start to finish. He’s diverged, purposely veered away from his constants, and it ended exactly like he knew it would. In disaster. He shouldn’t have gone to the unknown stall. He shouldn’t have yelled at Gemma. He shouldn’t have agreed to leave the safety of his cottage. So many wrong choices, so many deviations. 

He should know better. He needs to stick to his constants. ‘Always’ is better than ‘sometimes’. ‘Guaranteed’ is better than ‘rarely’. His constants keep him safe. When he leaves that path, when he lets himself slip away from his constants, then bad things happen. Bad things like clenched fists and vile words and stinging tears. Bad things happen without his constants.

Birds, cold showers, too many stairs, notes, journal, alone- These things are Harry’s security. They’re his safety. They’re his stability. He repeats the mantra over and over to himself as he climbs into his car, turning the ignition and speeding towards his cottage.

Going out, new vendors, fights, the pub, Niall- They’re not constants. None of them are an always, so, from now on, they’ll be nevers. That won’t be hard. All he has to do is stay at the lighthouse. Gemma can do the shopping for the next two years. It’s her turn anyways.

He slams the door to the cottage when he enters, doing something that he hasn’t in two years, deciding on one never to change into an always. He locks the door. He locks it, and bolts it, and puts down the heavy bar to stop anyone from invading. Because being alone is his constant, not other people. Nobody else is allowed to throw him off kilter again.

He doesn’t bother stripping off before he climbs into bed, too drained to do much of anything at all. Amanda hops up next to him, forgoing her usual annoying habits to do something unprecedented in the two years that he’s owned her. She cuddles up to him, slipping under his arm to curl up beside his chest. So Harry does two more things that he hasn’t done in two years. He cries, and then he falls into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this chapter early as a tribute to Harry's birthday. From now on, chapters will come every five days.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing. That never happens. Only one person even has the number to it. His chest wells with panic when he remembers that he didn’t drive Gemma back last night. It could just be her calling to tell him where to pick her up, but it could also be someone calling her emergency contact to tell him that something has happened to her.

It’s that thought that pushes him out of the bed, that fear that makes him scramble across the room to grab the landline before it can go to voicemail.

“Hello?” he asks shakily. “Gemma?”

“Of course it’s Gemma, you bleeding idiot.” Gemma huffs out. “I slept over at Liam and Louis’ place. Are you ready to come get me?”

“Sure.” Harry breathes out. “Yeah, fine. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Make it twenty and bring tea.” Gemma mutters. “All Louis has is that Yorkshire crap. He just won an award for having a great spot to get something to eat and drink, but he has terrible taste.”

“Whatever.” Harry huffs. “Twenty then.”

He rings off before she can say anything else, still too strung out from the events of yesterday to talk any more than is completely necessary. He’s wound too tight, a clock whose seconds are ticking by too fast, and he can’t find a way to slow it down. His hands won’t stop shaking as he sets his kettle and goes about making his sister’s tea. They don’t stop as he grabs his keys, or unlocks his door, or turns over the ignition.

They don’t stop the entire way into town, or when he parks out front and gives a short blast of his horn to announce his arrival, and they still haven’t stopped ten minutes later when Gemma finally makes her way out through the front door of the pub. Liam is with her, presumably to lock the door until the start of business, and he gives Harry a small smile and wave that the younger boy doesn’t return. He just looks down at his own knees, tugging his scarf up over his nose like a mask.

Gemma climbs into the passenger seat, looking like some kind of fresh hell with her makeup smeared haphazardly all over her face and only half of her hair still in the ponytail that she’d had done when they left the house last night.

“So-” Gemma drawls out, taking a pull off of the travel mug Harry had brought for her. “That was quite an exit you made last night. I have to thank you though. That tray of drinks that you spilled on Liam made him strip off his shirt. Louis is damn lucky. Liam’s got some fine abs. A bit hairy for my tastes, but still, they’re nice.”

Harry doesn’t respond, just focuses on the road and trying to get his hands to stop shaking before he jerks the wheel and somebody else gets hurt. He can’t be responsible for that. Not again.

“Louis was pissed of course, but I paid for the glasses.” Gemma continues, unfazed by Harry’s silence. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Harry offers no thanks. He’d have paid for them if Louis sent him a bill. Knowing Louis though, he would have come to collect in person, and then dragged Harry down to the bank by the ear until he’d gotten the money. Louis is unyielding, strong in the sense that he’s not sturdy, but he can weather any storm by sheer force of will. 

Harry isn’t sure that Louis is entirely human, actually. He might be a storm himself, given human form by some magic that Harry doesn’t understand or know of. And Liam is the sea on a calm day, stoic and unaffected by anything that tries to stand in his path. But when they come together, when the storm whips up the strong winds and shatters the sky with lightning, they become something unstoppable in its destructive potential, but also strangely beautiful. Harry envies them both, whether separate or together. They have more strength than he can dream of.

“Harry-” Gemma sighs, pulling Harry out of his head. “We don’t have to talk about it, but, please, say something.”

“Something.” Harry offers dryly.

There’s exactly one stoplight in the village, and, despite the fact that almost nobody ever drives around here, it has to be the slowest one in the world. It always takes minutes to change, and it always makes Harry restless and anxious. This time is a bit worse though, because the universe is really trying him now.

Niall is standing on the sidewalk, though he’s thankfully distracted by something on his mobile. Of course, as soon as that thought passes through Harry’s mind, Niall looks up. The recognition in his eyes when they find Gemma is unmistakable, and he changes direction to start heading towards the car.

The light is still red, but Harry doesn’t care. There’s no camera to catch him, and no other cars on the road. He slams down on the gas, jerking forward as he races away before Niall can take another step closer and possibly recognize Harry.

He’s wild with fear, not slowing down on the entire way back to their property. Gemma is looking at him sadly, but at least she doesn’t look afraid. Harry couldn’t handle that on top of the roiling cloud of emotion building up in his gut. He can’t take any more guilt than is already sitting heavy on top of his heart.

He doesn’t stop until he parks in front of Gemma’s house, breathing heavily as his lungs threaten to collapse. It’s too much. It’s too many not-constants. The phone instead of the birds, and the driving into town on a Monday, and seeing Liam and Gemma two days in a row, and Niall. It’s too many nevers, and not enough always.

“Are you okay?” Gemma asks quietly, placing her hand over the death-grip that Harry has on the wheel. He flinches away immediately, curling against the car door and huddling down into as much of a ball as he can make himself. “It’s Niall, isn’t it? He’s what’s got you acting like this?”

“No.” Harry denies. He tries to sound adamant, but it only comes out broken and choked.

“I heard about what happened at the market.” Gemma sighs. “And last night, you left just as he came in. And then– I don’t even know what the hell that was just now, Harry. All three instances involve Niall.”

“It’s not him.” Harry argues. “He doesn’t fucking matter. It’s just too much. There are too many things happening that shouldn’t be happening. I don’t– My life is the same, okay? Day in, and day out, everything is the same. I can handle that. But, now that’s getting all fucked up, and I don’t want it to anymore. I want everything to stay the same.”

“Tough shit.” Gemma says crudely, a bite to her tone that has Harry tucking tighter into himself than before. “Life is going to keep moving on, with or without your consent, Harry. The rest of the world isn’t going to stop just because you want to keep being alone.”

“That doesn’t mean that I have to be a part of it.” Harry mutters. “Go. You need to wash your face. You’re half as fucked up looking as I am right now.”

“Fuck off.” Gemma spits out, taking her cup and throwing open the car door.

She doesn’t even close it, just marches off, so Harry is forced to lean over and do it himself while calling after her with, “And wash that before you return it!”

Her only response is to flip Harry off over her shoulder before she slams the front door shut. Harry punches the steering wheel before starting up the car again, trundling off towards the cottage. Finally, he can stay there. There’s no reason to leave for another three days, when he has to go see Gemma for lunch.

Amanda looks at him curiously when he makes his way inside, staying cautiously out of the sphere of his rage until he falls back into the bed. He’d checked the weather on his way in, and knows that he won’t be necessary for a couple of hours at the least. Until then, he’s going to stay in bed and not risk any more not-constants mucking things up for him.

 

There’s a very big not-constant the next morning, after Harry has completed his morning ritual. Something that hasn’t happened in a very long time occurs, and it makes Harry want to run. Unfortunately, he can’t. He can’t, because the thing that happens is someone knocking at his door, which leaves him nowhere to run. Even Gemma doesn’t do that. He always goes to her, not the other way around. 

For a brief moment, fear flashes through him that it could be Niall, but that’s quickly dispelled when a familiar voice calls through the door, “It’s just me, Harry. I came alone.”

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks after undoing the locks and cracking the door just enough to see out.

“I’m done not seeing you anymore.” Liam says firmly, pressing his hand against the door. He doesn’t try to barge in, but he keeps it there as a way to show Harry that he’s not going to be shut out again, either. “I’ve let this go on for long enough, but I refuse to do it anymore.”

“That’s not your choice, Liam.” Harry says coldly. “Go away.”

“No.” Liam tells him. “Now, let me in, or I’ll just stand at the window and talk to you through it until you do. I’ve even brought blankets and food in the car in case I’m stuck out here for a while.”

“Fuck you, you stubborn arse.” Harry grumbles, opening up the door and tugging Liam inside before slamming it shut and doing back up all of the locks. “You have five minutes, and then I want you to leave.”

“I knew Anne quite well, Harry, and she’d give you a good smack for being so rude to a guest.” Liam hums, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack.

“Yeah, well– She’s dead, so it doesn’t matter, does it?” Harry mutters angrily. “I think she’d be a bit more upset about that than that I was rude to an uninvited and unwanted guest.”

“Harry-” Liam sighs.

“If you say what I think you’re about to, I will literally throw you out.” Harry growls. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Fine.” Liam says quietly. “We’ll talk about something else.”

“How about nothing at all?” Harry offers.

“Harry, all I have to do is call Louis, and he’ll drive over here from Gemma’s.” Liam threatens. “The three of us are worried about you. Apparently, you and Gemma can’t talk without fighting lately, and Louis isn’t any better, so it’s down to me.”

“So, what?” Harry asks. “You think you can walk in here and fix me? I don’t need fixing, Liam. I don’t need anything from anyone, and I especially don’t need the three of you deciding how I should live my life. I’m just fine with my life the way it is.”

“Then why are you running away from Niall?” Liam questions.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Harry snaps.

“I have a feeling that it has to do with everything.” Liam says calmly, taking a seat in the sagging armchair that Harry uses to read in. “Nobody told you he was back in town, did they?”

“No, because I don’t care.” Harry huffs, taking the single chair at the table.

“Or does it have something to do with the fact that you never speak to anyone except Gemma, and that’s only every three days?” Liam fires back.

“How is that any of your business?” Harry asks harshly.

“Because, Harry-” Liam says softly. “I love you. We all do, and we always have. I get it, okay? If you tell either of the other two that I said that, I’ll clean your clock, but I get it. I get wanting to hide. I get being scared of the world because of the horrible things that happen out there. But you can’t keep isolating yourself from the rest of the world just because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.” Harry growls.

“Then answer my question.” Liam argues. “Why did you run away from your best friend in the entire world, not once, but three times in twenty-four hours?”

“Because I don’t want him in my life again!” Harry roars, picking up the lukewarm cup of tea he’d been idly drinking from before Liam arrived and smashing it against the wall. He places his hands under the table, ready to throw it to the ground, but Liam’s hand lands on top of it before Harry can accomplish that too, keeping it firmly in place.

“Calm down.” Liam orders, his voice leaving no room for argument as he forces Harry back into his chair. “You’re not a child anymore, Harry. Stop throwing a fit, and use your words.”

“It’s my cottage. I can do what I want.” Harry mutters, wrapping his arms around his waist again, like he had the night before.

“It was my home once too, and I don’t appreciate seeing it treated this way.” Liam counters. “Now, please expand on your answer about not wanting Niall in your life again.”

“There’s nothing to expand on.” Harry says quietly. “I don’t want anything to do with him. That’s all there is to it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense though.” Liam sighs. “You two were inseparable.”

“’Were’ being the operative word.” Harry points out. “Things change, Liam. Case in point, you used to be someone I admired for your restraint and kindness. And yet, here you are, barging into my house without a reason and scolding me like a child, as if you have any right, just because you don’t approve of the way I decide to conduct my own affairs.”

“I have a reason, Harry.” Liam says, irritation hovering in his tone and a strong hand rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows. “I love you, and I miss you, and I’m worried about you. I have been for a long time, but this whole Niall thing is making it worse.”

“Your five minutes are up, Liam.” Harry mutters.

“Don’t do this, Harry.” Liam pleads. “Let someone in. It doesn’t matter if it’s me, or Gemma, or Louis, but let somebody in. If you keep going the way you are, I’m afraid that you’ll do something that you can’t take back.”

“Like kill myself?” Harry asks harshly. “You think I haven’t thought about it? You think that it doesn’t cross my mind every time I step out the door and see that cliff so fucking close? I won’t do it though. I don’t get off that easy. I have to live with my shame, and I have to do it alone. That’s my punishment. That’s how I atone. So, if you’re all sitting there, biting your nails to figure out which fucked up part of my life is going to finally push me over the edge, then you can stop. I’ve already taken two lives, so I don’t have the right to take my own.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Liam questions. “Do you understand why we’re all so scared when you can talk about it this easily?”

“No.” Harry answers. “Because you have nothing to lose. You’re not a part of my life anymore, Liam, and I’m not a part of yours. Don’t come back. I won’t let you in again. You can freeze until you pull your head out of your arse and leave.”

“Harry-” Liam starts.

Harry cuts him off with a hand around his throat, leaping up and steering him backwards until he’s pressed against the wall next to the door.

“Did you think I didn’t mean it?” Harry growls. “Did you think that I wouldn’t literally throw you out?”

Liam tugs at Harry’s arm, but the adrenaline of Harry’s fury is far stronger than that of Liam’s fear. It does him no good to try and free himself while Harry undoes the locks. The door is barely opened by the time that Harry tosses Liam to the ground outside, watching without remorse as Liam hits the dirt. 

Liam tries to scramble back inside, crawls on his hands and knees just to try and stop the door from closing, but Harry is faster. The door closes before Liam’s palms find its surface, before he can push back against it and wedge himself into Harry’s life for another moment. The locks slide into place, and Harry slips into his chair, ignoring Liam’s pleas until he finally gives up an hour later and leaves.

 

Despite Harry’s insistence that he wouldn’t go back into town, a nick on his finger from preparing dinner provides yet another bit of proof that the universe hates him. He’d meant to stop by the pharmacy when he’d gone for food, had meant to restock his medical kit, but he forgot after his encounter with Niall. The first one, that is. The real one. The one where he got more than a glimpse, but could see up close and in person that Niall’s eyes were still as blue as they ever were, and he still has the same smile that could end a war, and that his front teeth are just slightly uneven, despite the nearly three years that he’d spent wearing braces. They always have been.

But that’s not Harry’s always. It’s not something he ever wants to see again, so he actually chooses to perform a never on the way into town. He prays. He prays that there’s no sign of Niall, because he’s afraid that one more never of Niall’s caliber will send him over the edge. So he tries to combat a never with a never, fighting fire with fire, so to speak, and hopes that the universe takes pity on him before he loses his mind completely.

The pharmacy is deserted when Harry parks in front of it, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. Given how late it is, he isn’t surprised. He’s only ten minutes out from closing time. That’s all he needs.

He grabs bandages and plasters, ointments for cuts and burns, and a few other necessities, including a sewing kit. It’s not the best option, but he’s had to sew up his own cuts before. Being isolated has drawbacks when you’re clumsy and terrified of hospitals.

He’s trying to pick out a new toothbrush when a horribly familiar voice says, “Go with the gold sparkles. It’s more your speed. The blue is boring.”

Harry freezes in place, and Niall adds, “Don’t run. Not again.”

“I-” is all Harry can manage to croak out.

“Please.” Niall whispers, gripping his fingers lightly onto Harry’s shoulder. 

It’s an instinct when Harry flinches away, a habit built from two years avoiding any and all human contact that he could. Even if it weren’t though, he thinks he probably would have tried to escape the contact anyways. It’s soft, but burns like fire through the fabric of Harry’s jumper.

“Just– Just don’t run.” Niall murmurs. “Not again. Please, Harry.”

“I’m not running.” Harry mutters, finding his voice. He drops the blue toothbrush into his basket and heads towards the counter. “I’m leaving.”

“Don’t see much of a difference.” Niall counters, keeping in stride with Harry to prevent an escape. “Especially not after the last few times you’ve ‘left’.”

Harry doesn’t bother responding, can’t think of anything anyways. He just keeps his head down, using the hand that isn’t holding the basket to adjust his scarf and hat until only a sliver of his face is visible. He’d just cover it all if he could, but wearing a ski-mask around town is a recipe for disaster. He tried it at first, and people thought he was a robbing the bank when he went in. Getting tackled by a security guard is not something that he wants to go through twice in his life if he can avoid it.

He sets the basket on the counter and then shuts down, withdrawing into his head once Niall starts speaking. He can’t listen to that voice, to that lilt, and not feel anything, so he just doesn’t listen. Because if he lets himself feel, lets himself remove the tight lid settled over his emotions, then he’ll explode. He’ll explode, and he doesn’t want to do that with Niall. Doesn’t want Niall to know that he still has that kind of power over Harry to this day.

So he reduces Niall’s voice to nothing more than a droning buzz in his ears, keeps his eyes focused on the counter while the cashier quickly rings up his purchases. He doesn’t know if her speed is accredited to wanting to help Harry escape, or just because nobody wants him around, but he silently thanks her for it as he hands over a couple of notes and takes his bag.

He feels Niall’s presence next to him, still hears the droning of his voice, as he exits the shop beside Harry. He makes a beeline for his car, but Niall’s hand slams down on the door before it can open.

“Talk to me.” Niall begs, ducking in front of Harry to force himself into view.

“Go away.” Harry grits out. Another never- he touches someone else. Puts his palm flat against Niall’s shoulder and pushes hard enough to dislodge him from his spot.

Niall doesn’t move far though. He’s sturdier than he looks, and only moves back a step before righting himself and glaring at Harry defiantly. There’s a fire burning in those eyes, blue and hot like his temper when it flares up. It makes Harry’s stomach twist, because that look has never been directed at him. Lots of people on his behalf, but never, ever him.

“Not until you talk to me.” Niall says adamantly.

His hand doesn’t move again though, stays firmly clenched in a fist at his side, so Harry uses that to swing open the door to his car and climb inside. He slams it shut, despite almost hitting Niall when the blond moves to intercept it, and jams the keys in the ignition.

Niall’s fist smacks down on the window, making Harry flinch again, and he growls out, “Don’t you fucking dare. You’re going to talk to me, Harry.”

Harry doesn’t respond again this time, choosing instead to turn over the engine and peel out of his parking space. He’s gone before Niall can take another step towards him.

 

The storm hits the next morning, forcing Harry out of the cottage and up to the lighthouse for most of the day. It’s good though. This is an always, and, even if he hates it, he needs just one day to be filled with constants, and not nevers.

So he sits in his castle of light and glass and stone, helps direct a ship away from the cliffs and back towards the port through the radio he has in the tower. It’s a good day. It reminds him why he does what he does. 

He helps people find their way home, helps them find safety, and it means that he’s needed. Somebody needs him, even though he’s a mess, broken and battered and beaten down to nothing more than a ghost. He’s necessary to someone.

The storm breaks around midnight, eighteen hours after it started, but it isn’t done. Harry knows better. It’s just gearing itself up for the rest. It’ll last days, bring fury over the ocean, and Harry will be needed more. And he needs that as well, needs to be needed. 

Liam and Louis and Gemma may be afraid to lose him, but that’s not the same as needing him. None of them need him, and, despite their apparent fear of waking up without him one day, they never will. They’d probably be better off without him, actually. Then they wouldn’t have to worry. They could move on without the dark cloud of Harry’s existence hanging over them.

Harry decides to take the sleep where he can get it, crawls out of the tower and into his bed for a blessedly restful sleep with Amanda once more curling up under his arm.


	4. Chapter 4

When Harry wakes up, he thinks it’s to a crash of thunder. The rain tapping against his window begs to differ. It’s too soft, too weak, to signify the resurgence of the storm. It’s too early, too soon, for things to be back in full swing.

The noise comes again, and it’s far worse than thunder. It’s a banging at his door. It’s loud and furious, unrelenting as someone fights to be heard through the steel and the wind and the pounding in Harry’s ears.

“Harry!” someone screams, making Harry’s stomach fill with lead and dread in equal measure. “Let me in! It’s bloody freezing out here!”

Harry pulls the blanket over his head immediately, which causes Amanda to lash out and scratch his arm from being startled. He hisses, batting at her until she jumps from the bed. He doesn’t need anything else piled on top of Niall fucking Horan demanding to be let into Harry’s sanctuary at five in the morning. Or, ever, for that matter.

“Harry!” Niall shouts angrily, the sound coming from the window this time, rather than the door. “Let me in now, or I swear I’ll break in!”

His palm slaps against the glass, and Harry jumps up from the bed. The blanket is still wrapped around him, pulled tight to hide his face when he opens the locks save for the security chain. Niall is there in an instant, trying to push his way in, but the lock catches and keeps him outside.

“Let me in.” Niall demands again.

“No. Go away.” Harry mutters.

“Even if that were possible, I wouldn’t.” Niall huffs. “The road is washed out. I hiked up here after I drove as far as I could. Let me in before I die of exposure.”

“Go to the main house then.” Harry tells him. “Gemma will let you stay there.”

“I’m not walking another kilometer in this fucking rain.” Niall grits out. “Let. Me. In.”

“I don’t want you here, Niall.” Harry chokes out. “Just go away.”

“Harry, please.” Niall whispers. “I’m so fucking cold.”

Harry closes the door, but only for a moment. It’s just long enough to slide open the chain and make a massive mistake by opening the door.

“Thank you.” Niall says gently once he’s inside.

“You know where everything is.” Harry mumbles. “You can use the washer and dryer for your clothes, and there are blankets in the chest. Sleep in the chair if you want to, but, as soon as the rain breaks, you need to leave. Go back to the main house, or back to whatever car you borrowed to get here. I don’t care. I just want you gone by the time I wake up again.”

“Stop.” Niall says softly, grabbing Harry’s blanket to keep him from walking away. “Haz, please. I came all the way up here just to talk to you. The least you can do is-”

“The most I’m willing to do is let you inside so you don’t die!” Harry spits out venomously. “You weren’t invited, and you most certainly aren’t fucking wanted here! You don’t have any right to ask more of me than that! Take my offer, or get the fuck out!”

“Are you going to throw me out like you did Liam?” Niall asks harshly. “Going to choke me and then toss me aside like a piece of rubbish as well?”

“I will if you don’t leave me alone.” Harry confirms, wrenching away from Niall’s grip. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Niall. I don’t want any of you here. I want to be alone. Why can’t any of you respect that?”

“Because we care about you.” Niall says firmly. “Liam and Louis broke everything down for me the other night. They told me everything. I’m sorry that I didn’t recognize you, okay? You had your face covered, and your voice is different, and you fucking ran away. You ran away from me, Harry. I deserve more than that.”

“You don’t deserve a damn thing from me.” Harry says icily, turning and heading back towards his bed. “Don’t try and talk to me again, or I will throw you out, your safety and health be damned.”

He gets to the bed, but turns back to add, “Oh, and don’t pet the cat. She’s a biter, and she doesn’t like anyone ever.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Niall says snidely. Even though the room is dark, Harry can still picture the exact roll of the eyes that Niall gives in response.

 

Niall isn’t gone by the time that Harry wakes up. He’s sleeping soundly in the armchair. There’s a blanket haphazardly thrown over his prone form, and his legs and chest are both exposed. Harry’s tempted to cover him up, to hide the pale skin from view before anything can resurface from Harry’s previous life. That would risk waking him up though.

Harry decides not to wake him, either by covering him up or throwing him out. He just doesn’t want to deal with Niall pushing for more than he’s been given, which already feels like more than Harry had in him to give. 

He locks the bathroom door when he goes to take his shower, and, for once, spends time reveling in the chill of the water. At least it’s a constant. At least it’s an always, unlike the second body in his cottage.

Niall being here is wrong. Nobody is supposed to be here except for Harry. He’s not built for this anymore. He doesn’t want or need human contact. It makes his skin crawl and his scar burn. His throat hurts when he speaks, and it’s hard to breathe when he covers his face. Having people around is all loss and no gain. Having Niall around is ten times worse than anyone else, too. A hundred, even.

Thunder crashes outside, and Harry turns off the shower. He doesn’t have time to be doing this. Besides, the sooner he heads up to the tower, the sooner he can put more distance between himself and Niall. It’s not much, not enough, but it’ll have to do for now. It’ll have to work until Niall wakes up and heads back to the main house.

In his rush to escape Niall’s presence, Harry had forgotten to bring any clothes. He sighs, wrapping the towel around his waist, and scurries out of the bathroom towards his wardrobe. He grabs his pants first, shimmying them up under the towel before he drops it.

“Fuck, and I thought you were ripped before.” comes a low, rough voice through the darkness of the room.

“Fucking hell!” Harry yelps, slamming into the wardrobe as he flinches away from the sound. “Don’t fucking do that!”

“Just paying you a compliment, Haz.” Niall mumbles drowsily, followed by the distinctive popping sounds that accompany a really good morning stretch.

“Fuck off.” Harry mutters, grabbing a shirt at random and quickly tugging it on to hide the scars that litter his torso and back. He doubts Niall can see much in the low light, but he isn’t taking any chances.

“I see you’re still as pleasant in the morning as you ever were.” Niall chuckles, standing up and out of the chair. And, fuck, he’s naked. Why is he fucking naked? Oh yeah, his clothes were soaked through. “If you’re done in there though, I need to take a piss.”

“I see you’re still as crude and inappropriate as ever.” Harry huffs, grabbing some socks and a pair of jeans to complete his kit.

“Like I haven’t had to put up with you strutting around in the nude like the prize peacock a thousand times over since we were kids.” Niall scoffs, making his way across the room. 

He closes the bathroom door behind him, and Harry rushes to put on his clothes. He’s barely got his boots on by the time that he hears the toilet flush, but it’s enough to get him running out the door without breakfast or a jacket. The only things he grabs are his scarf and hat off of the desk by the bed before he bolts outside. 

Amanda will just have to wait for her morning meal until later, once Niall’s left and Harry can come down from the tower for a few minutes to feed her. He didn’t see her around anyways. Maybe she’s still sleeping. Or, maybe she’s finally doing what he bought her to do in the first place, and taking care of herself by eating the mice that occasionally take up residence in Harry’s cottage. That seems unlikely, though.

The rain feels nearly solid as it pelts down on Harry’s body, soaking him in the short time that it takes to get from the cottage to the lighthouse. It’s worth it though, because at least he can breathe now. At least he can draw in a lungful of air without feeling like it’s going to shake him apart until he’s nothing more than bones scattered across the floor.

He idly wonders how long it would take them to find him if that happened. How long would Gemma stay angry at him, and avoid coming to talk to him? How long would Liam wait before he came back and gave another shot at trying to force himself into Harry’s life? How long until Louis comes for him with anger in his eyes and stone in his heart to attempt to shatter Harry’s walls through sheer force of will? How long before somebody, anybody, forgave him enough to worry about him? Or has he finally pushed everyone away so hard, so mercilessly, that none of them will allow themselves to be the first one to break?

Liam? Probably. Liam is kind and gentle, forgiving above all else. But Harry laid hands on him. Harry hurt him on purpose. That’s not something he’s coming back from, even with Liam.

Louis? Harry doubts he would ever be the first one to break. Louis is too strong and too stubborn for that. He’s not sure that the grim reaper will even be able to take Louis unless he consents.

Gemma? She does love Harry, even still, but she’s never been known for being Harry’s biggest fan. His sister loves him, but Harry senses it though, the anger and resentment she has towards him, hidden under the thin layer of love that he hasn’t quite managed to destroy. Yet.

It’ll probably be one of the townspeople first, or maybe someone from the lab. Despite being on Styles family property, and being owned by the Styles family, the lighthouse actually belongs to the village. They pay his salary, needing a warm body running the tower to keep the waters nearby safe. The lab is part of a company gathering weather statistics, and they pay Harry two-hundred pounds a month to record data from their devices and send it in every week. Both have a vested interest in having somebody in the lighthouse, which makes them more likely to notice if he disappears.

He shakes the thought from his head, because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who would find him. All that matters is that he matters for now. He’s necessary again whenever he’s in here.

He docks the handheld radio that he’d brought down with him last night in case of an emergency and flips on the large one instead, taking a seat in the chair and opening up the laptop he uses for GPS coordinates and data collection. He’s not getting any signals outside of the docks, so he decides that now is a good time to enter all the data he’s collected in the past week.

It’s a peaceful process, almost numbing. It lets him push all of his energy into something mindless. After the accident, when he’d gotten out of the hospital, he’d been forced into seeing a therapist. He’d tried to get Harry to meditate as a way of focusing his emotions and controlling his mood swings. Harry had hated it. He could never sit still, never turn his brain off without something to turn his attention towards. Then he’d discovered that data entry helped him block everything else out. Unfortunately, everything really does mean everything.

He never hears the door open or shut, never hears the approaching footsteps coming up the spiral staircase. He doesn’t know that he’s not alone anymore until there’s a hand on his shoulder and he’s falling to the ground just to escape the burning of the touch.

“Would you stop doing that?” they both ask at the same time. 

In another life, that would have made Harry crack a smile. He’d be collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles, not scrambling to grab his hat and scarf before Niall can get a good look at the shame streaked across his face and throat.

“Why aren’t you gone yet?” Harry asks harshly once he’s got his pseudo-mask in place.

“You said that I had to go when the rain broke.” Niall hums, setting down a basket. “As far as I can see, it’s actually gotten worse.”

“I said that I wanted you gone before I woke up again.” Harry points out. “Then again, you never fucking listened to anyone, least of all me, so I’m hardly surprised that you didn’t this time either.”

“Shut up and thank me for making you breakfast.” Niall scoffs, pulling out a pile of containers from the basket, followed by a thermos.

“Absolutely not.” Harry huffs. “Now, leave.”

“Didn’t go through all this trouble for nothing.” Niall says firmly. “Eat the food, Harry.”

“I’m not hungry!” Harry growls, only to be immediately contradicted by his stomach practically roaring. The truth is, Harry hasn’t eaten since lunch the day before yesterday. He’d thrown out the salad that he’d made for dinner after bleeding all over it, and was too shaken up by his encounter with Niall to even think about eating since then. He’s starving, but he’s not going to admit it.

“D’you ever get tired of this?” Niall asks. “This whole ‘angry at the entire universe’ thing that you’ve got going on must be exhausting. Lying can’t help much either. Just eat the damn food, Harry.”

“No.” Harry says firmly.

“Is it about the scar?” Niall asks. “You’re refusing to eat because you don’t want me to see it?”

“It’s because I don’t want anything from you.” Harry bites out, standing up off of the ground. “Not your food, and certainly not your fucking company.”

“Then show it to me.” Niall says calmly. “Stop hiding your face, and just show it to me.”

“Fuck off.” Harry mutters. His arms come up to wrap around his waist, fingers clutching tightly enough to bruise himself. He needs the pain to keep him grounded, to keep him from getting in too deep and losing control completely.

“You’re that bad off then?” Niall questions, taking a step towards Harry, which causes the brunet to step back. “You’ve reverted back to that now? I thought we got you past that years ago.”

“A lot can change in two years, Niall.” Harry spits out. “Now go.”

“And how do you expect me to go anywhere?” Niall asks, taking another step, and another, and another until Harry is backed up against one of the windows with no place left to go. The stairs are on the opposite side of the room, and Niall is still advancing. He rests his hands on Harry’s elbows, holding on tight when Harry tries to flinch away, and asks, “How do you expect for me to go anywhere after seeing you like this? How can you expect me to leave when you’re so far gone?”

“You did it before.” Harry slurs out, squeezing his eyes shut and tensing his entire body to withdraw in on himself as much as Niall’s hold will allow him to. “Leaving is just about the only good thing you can do for me, Niall. It made me stronger when I had to be alone.”

“Nothing about you is strong right now, Harry.” Niall counters. “You’re acting just like you did when we were kids. You’re angry, and you’re scared, but you’re not strong.”

“Ask Liam just how strong I am.” Harry growls. “Or I could just show you the same way I showed him.”

“You think that’s strength?” Niall scoffs. “You think attacking your friends for trying to help is being strong?”

“I don’t have any bloody friends!” Harry roars, lifting his hands to Niall’s chest and pushing him back and away. Rage is flaring up in his gut, wild and dangerous, and he’s losing the last bits of his restraint by the second. He’s an inferno gearing up to happen, a fire, ready to scorch everything in his path, and Niall is dangerously close to becoming tinder. “Least of all you!”

“Well that’s not how we feel about it.” Niall spits out. That fire is back in his eyes, blue and vivid and plenty ready to be let loose as well. That only makes Harry burn hotter until everything in his vision begins to darken except the fury in Niall’s eyes. “We still consider you a friend, and we want to help.”

“I don’t need your fucking help!” Harry shouts, drawing back his fist.

He aims it straight for Niall’s jaw, knows by instinct that there’s enough force behind the swing to shatter the bone and make sure that Niall never makes the mistake of trying to come here again. It won’t be forgiven, and that’s exactly what Harry wants and expects. What he doesn’t expect, though, is for Niall to be so fucking fast.

He ducks out of the way just in time, which sends Harry’s body off balance. To make matters worse, the light turns just as Harry stumbles forward, flashing right in his eyes and blinding him. He feels something hook around his ankle, and then he’s falling down to sprawl out on the floor.

Niall’s booted foot lands on Harry’s back, pressing down hard as he says, “I can do this all day, Harry. I’ve fought guys a lot bigger than you. Sailors and alcohol make for interesting times.”

Harry reaches out blindly, and, by the grace of god, he manages to find Niall’s other ankle. He tugs on it hard, and the boot on his back is gone as Niall crashes to the ground beside him.

“Fucking hell!” Niall groans. “I think you broke my arse!”

“I think you mean your face.” Harry says with a snort, a younger version of himself slipping through the cracks to control his tongue. “Must be, since you talk so much shit.”

Niall lets out a loud bark of laughter, clapping his hand over his mouth and falling onto his back from his sitting position. He rolls around for a bit, dispelling the wrath hanging in the air like the storm clouds outside with each passing guffaw that he’s no longer trying to stifle. That’s one of the things that Niall is good at though, removing tension with barely any effort. He always has been.

“That’s fuckin’ hilarious.” Niall says through a fit of giggles. “When did you start being funny?”

“I’ve always been funny.” Harry huffs, leaning back against the pedestal that holds the light so as not to be blinded by it again. He lashes out with his boot, catching Niall on the hip just hard enough to make him grunt. “You used to laugh at my jokes all the time.”

“Only because they were terrible, and I felt sorry for you.” Niall counters with a smug grin. Harry kicks at him again, but Niall leans just out of range to avoid the contact. “Stop doing that. Your big yeti feet hurt, you know.”

“Go away, and I’ll stop then.” Harry tells him.

“Fat chance.” Niall scoffs. “Now, will you take those things off? You look fucking stupid wearing a scarf and a hat when it’s this warm in here.”

“I’m wearing them for a reason, Niall.” Harry mutters.

“I know.” Niall nods. “And it’s a stupid one. Stop hiding from me. I’m not going to think any less of you for a scar, Haz.”

“Stop calling me that.” Harry says quietly. “That’s not who I am anymore.”

“I will if you take off the hat and scarf.” Niall offers. “I promise.”

“Fine.” Harry sighs. It’s a fight that he knows he can’t win. It’s kind of a relief, actually. Oxygen was getting harder to come by, and Niall was right. It’s too bloody hot for them.

That sense of relief starts to shake apart as Harry unwraps the scarf, though. His fingers tremble as he loosens the knot that holds it in place, letting the fabric flutter down into his lap. The hat comes off next, joining the scarf, but Harry can’t bring himself to look up now that he’s exposed.

“Happy?” Harry asks bitterly.

“Lift your face.” Niall says softly, nudging Harry’s ankle with his foot.

“No.” Harry huffs petulantly.

“Why is everything a fight with you?” Niall groans. His fingers wrap around Harry’s ankles, and then the brunet’s legs are being pulled straight out in front of him so fast that he can’t even tighten them back up before they’re trapped between Niall’s knees. The blond crawls forward, sitting down on Harry’s thighs, and grabs his chin before murmuring, “Lift your face for me, Harry. I want to see what you look like now.”

“Niall, please-” Harry begs, his voice no more than a whisper. He shivers when the rough pad of Niall’s thumb scrapes over the edge of the scar that’s on his jawline. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I’m not asking for the moon, Harry.” Niall says gently. “I’m just asking to see you. Don’t you trust me by now?”

“I don’t even know you anymore.” Harry mutters. “And you don’t know me.”

Niall leans forward, his lips brushing over the shell of Harry’s ear when he whispers, “Yes I do. I know who you really are, despite who you’re trying to be, Haz.”

“You promised.” Harry whimpers, his fingers scraping on the stone to keep him from touching Niall anywhere.

“I’ll stop when you actually follow the spirit of the deal, and not just the letter of it, Haz.” Niall hums, cupping Harry’s cheek gently now, rather than gripping at his face with his demand. “So, please, just let me see you.”

“Why?” Harry asks.

“Because I’ve missed you.” Niall murmurs. “It’s been two years since I’ve actually seen your face in person, which is stupid, since I’ve seen you five times since I got back. But now you can’t go anywhere, and you’re not wearing a mask, and you have no real reason not to show me besides fear.”

“I’m disfigured, Niall.” Harry breathes out. “Children literally cry when they see me.”

“Don’t know if you noticed, Haz-” Niall chuckles. “But I’m not a kid anymore. I think kicking your arse proved that.”

“You did no such thing.” Harry huffs. “I’d have won if the stupid light hadn’t blinded me, and I still took you down.”

“We can argue the semantics of victory later.” Niall snorts. “For now, let’s just get a good look at you, yeah?”

“No such thing as a ‘good look’ at me.” Harry mutters.

He screws his eyes shut and draws in a breath, and then finally allows Niall’s hand to guide his face upwards. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn’t want to see the disgust painted on Niall’s features. He’s used to it with everyone else, used to the pity and queasiness that settles on their faces when they see him without his mask. Even Gemma still looks at him like he’s a sideshow freak sometimes, when she doesn’t think Harry notices. And, for all their talk, Liam and Louis couldn’t stand to look him in the face for too long either before they averted their eyes.

“You grew up.” Niall says quietly. “You look like a proper man now. I’m guessing you still can’t grow a beard, but that’ll happen eventually.”

It’s not there. Harry’s searching so hard through the notes of Niall’s voice, trying to pick it out, but he can’t find the horror or the pity. It doesn’t make sense though. Liam, Louis, and Gemma were all there when the bandages came off, when Harry saw the thick pink line streaked across his face that he’d have to live with for the rest of his life, and not one of them saw it without flinching. People in town still stare at it like it’s a snake sitting on his face. This is the first time that Niall is properly seeing it, but he’s not reacting like anyone else. He’s just proving himself to be a bigger never than ever.

“Come on then, green eyes.” Niall whispers. “Let’s see them.”

“That’s not your name for me.” Harry mumbles, still keeping them shut. “It’s Liam’s.”

“Gotta workshop something different, if you won’t let me call you ‘Haz’ anymore.” Niall muses.

“Not that.” Harry says quietly, fluttering open his eyelids. “It’s not yours to call me.”

“That’s alright.” Niall breathes out, the warm air ghosting over Harry’s cheeks. He smells like mint, and Harry is pretty sure that Niall used his toothbrush, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when Niall is so close, when he takes up Harry’s entire field of vision with that easy smile and bright eyes. It’s bringing to life things that Harry thought he’d buried long ago. “Green doesn’t really cover it anyways. There’s a lot more to your eyes than just the green. I’ll think of something else.”

“You got what you wanted.” Harry says after another stretch of silence while Niall looks over his features. “Can you go, now?”

“Eat first. Bitch at me later.” Niall hums, grin growing even wider. “And, before you even try it, we both that know you’re hungry. I’ll kick your arse again if you pull that shit one more time.”

“Can’t, uh– Can’t move.” Harry stutters out. His fingernails are painful nubs at this point, threatening to crack and bleed from scratching them harder and harder against the stone underneath in his fight to keep his hands from reaching out. Pushing down the urge to actively engage in a never shouldn’t be this difficult. But Niall looks good, so good, and it’s taking every ounce of himself to stop Harry from reaching out and touching him to make sure this isn’t a dream.

“You gonna eat?” Niall asks, narrowing his eyes, even though they’re still dancing with amusement.

“Fine.” Harry acquiesces. “Just get off of me. You’re heavier than you used to be.”

“Oi!” Niall squawks. “You calling me fat?”

“If the elastic waist trousers fit.” Harry smirks.

“You’re such an arse now.” Niall grumbles, standing up off of Harry’s lap. “I’ll have you know that I’m in better shape than I was when I left.”

“Eh.” Harry says noncommittally, standing up once Niall has backed up a bit to give him some room. “I saw you naked earlier, and it wasn’t anything to write home about. You’re still skinny and pale. You just have more than toothpicks for arms now.”

“Complete fuckin’ knob, you are.” Niall huffs, turning back towards Harry’s desk. “Can’t believe I fed your devil-cat for you.”

“Did you feed her?” Harry asks. “Or did she steal some of whatever you made and run off with it before you could catch her?”

“Same difference.” Niall chuckles.

“Fucking gremlin.” Harry mutters, taking the cup of tea Niall pours for him from the thermos. “She’s a useless little monster.”

“Why’d you get her?” Niall asks. “You don’t really seem like a pet person anymore. Or, ever, really.”

“She was supposed to eat the mice that come in and out of the cottage.” Harry explains. “Turns out, she’s bloody terrified of them. She’ll attack pretty much any human for anything, but she’s terrified of mice and rats. Leaps on top of the closest piece of furniture whenever she sees one and hides until it’s gone. So, now I have a cat that bites me when she’s bored, and a cupboard full of mouse-traps.”

“Sounds like her owner.” Niall hums, cocking an eyebrow at Harry. The brunet’s only response is to roll his eyes. “What? No witty retort?”

“No reason for one. You’re right.” Harry says with a shrug. “I suppose she probably did learn to be an asshole from me.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to argue that.” Niall grins. “You did try to punch me in the face, like– five minutes ago.”

“You were pushing for a reaction, and I reacted.” Harry mumbles, locking his eyes on his tea. “I– I’m sorry, alright? I just don’t cope well with being around people anymore. I like being alone.”

“There’s a difference between being alone, and being lonely.” Niall says quietly. “You don’t seem alone to me, Harry. You seem lonely. And, what’s worse, you’re doing it to yourself.”

“What would you know about it?” Harry asks harshly. “You’ve been back for less than a week, from what I hear.”

“I told you-” Niall replies. “Liam and Louis told me everything. They had me over that night, and they told me everything that’s been going on with you since I left.”

“They gave you their version of events.” Harry mutters. “And, seeing as I’ve only spoken to Liam twice, and Louis once, in the last two years or so, you should probably take those with a grain of salt. They don’t know anything about me. They just think that they do, because they like to gossip with my sister about me. Just like everyone else in this fucking village. I’m a topic of conversation to them, not a person. I’m not lonely, Niall. I choose to be alone, because it’s best for everyone.”

“That’s not how they feel about it.” Niall says firmly.

“Did– Did they send you up here?” Harry asks weakly. “Is that why you came? They fucking did, didn’t they?”

“No.” Niall admits. “They, uh– They actually said that it would be a good idea if I stayed away until you adjusted to the idea of me being back.”

“See what I mean about you never listening to anyone?” Harry asks dryly.

“Well excuse me if I wasn’t willing to take it on their word that you’ve turned into some elusive hermit living on the cliff and attacking people.” Niall scoffs. “The things they were saying didn’t make sense to me, Harry. I just– I didn’t want to believe that you’ve gotten this bad. I refused. I was willing to stake my life on it, which is why I hiked my arse up here in the middle of a storm just to prove them wrong.”

“And?” Harry questions.

“And you let me in.” Niall says with a soft smile. “You can’t be as far gone as they think you are if you did that.”

And that pretty much just confirms it for Harry. They all think he’s a lost cause. Maybe he is, though. Maybe they all finally realized that he’s supposed to be alone, like he himself came to understand a long time ago. He didn’t mean to end up like some fairy-tale monster, waiting in his dungeon to be slain. He didn’t mean to get so angry and mean and hateful. He can’t help it, though. Nobody except Gemma has even tried to be a part of his life until the last few days, and he knows that she’s only done it out of obligation.

He could leave. He could sign over his portion of the family business, could pack up his clothes and books and journals. He could go and find somewhere new to live, somewhere far away from everyone so that they don’t have to bother with him anymore. Somewhere where he’ll never have to see the pain and disappointment in the eyes of the people around him. Gemma, Liam, Louis, and even Niall – They’d all be far better off if he just left.

There’s a loud sound that makes Harry flinch and refocus, a pair of snapping fingers in front of his face with Niall’s concerned gaze behind them as he asks, “Where did you go?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Harry mumbles. “I’m– I’m too much of a coward to do it anyways.”

“What is ‘it’, Harry?” Niall asks – no, demands. There’s no room for argument in his tone. He wants to know, and he’ll get what he wants. He always does.

“I was thinking about leaving.” Harry admits. “Thinking about leaving. Finding a new place to exist, and never coming back. Like you.”

“I did come back, Harry.” Niall points out. “I’m right here.”

“You weren’t supposed to come back, Niall.” Harry mutters, setting his tea to the side. “You were supposed to stay gone. You were supposed to find somewhere bigger and better where you didn’t feel like you were suffocating. That’s what you wanted. That’s what you said in your note.”

“I was a stupid kid, Harry.” Niall sighs. “I was going through some things, and I ran away. I’m sorry. You have no idea how much I’ve regretted-”

“It doesn’t matter, Niall.” Harry cuts him off. “None of it matters. Not you leaving, not you coming back, and not your apologies. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“Do I?” Niall questions.

“Not to me.” Harry answers. “Now go. I have a job to do.”

“I’m still not going anywhere.” Niall says firmly. “Look at your gages. The temperature is nearly freezing, and the wind is going faster than most cars. I’ll catch pneumonia if I try to hike to Gemma’s.”

“Then go back to the cottage, and I’ll drive you over whenever I get a chance.” Harry tells him.

“Yeah, I’ve, uh– I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” Niall says with a wince, darting his eyes down towards the floor. “When I was on my way over here from the cottage, I noticed something. Your windshield kind of has a huge hole in it, and two of your windows are broken.”

“What?” Harry roars, running over to the window to look down towards the cottage. Sure enough, what Niall said is true. His windshield is shattered, and both driver’s side windows appear to be gone. There are large, black bin bags taped over any holes that could be there, but the damage is obvious from the spider web of cracks that lace over the windshield. “What the fuck happened?”

“It started hailing at one point after you went back to bed.” Niall offers. “I never heard the glass break though. I’m sorry. The water damage looked pretty extensive before I taped the bags on.”

“I– I don’t care about that.” Harry sighs. “But I’m not even sure Gemma would pick up if I called her, and I’m not having her drive out here in this weather. It’s too dangerous.”

“Why is it too dangerous for her, but not for you?” Niall scoffs.

“Because I don’t care what happens to me.” Harry explains. “But I care what happens to her.”

“Looks like you’re stuck with me until the storm breaks then.” Niall says smugly.

Fuck.


	5. Chapter 5

“Will you stop that?” Harry snaps, glaring over at Niall.

“I’m bored!” Niall whines, the drumming of his fingers against the desk never faltering for even a second. 

Harry kind of wants to slam his book down on top of them, but he doesn’t want to break them. He has splints, but he doesn’t have too much in the way of pain medication, just a few leftover Vicodin from the last time his scar pain started flaring up, and it looks like they’re probably going to be stuck out here for a few days. It would just make things worse.

“Then go down to the cottage.” Harry huffs, running his fingers through his hair and turning back to his book. “There’s books down there that you can read to keep yourself busy.”

“Or– Here’s a crazy idea.” Niall hums, finally, blessedly, stopping the rhythmic tapping. “I could use the laptop.”

“No.” Harry says firmly, scooting it closer to himself as Niall eyes it up.

“I’m not going to judge you for whatever kinky porn you wank to while you’re up here alone, Haz.” Niall snorts. “But you can clear your browser history if you really feel the need to.”

“That’s not– I don’t do that!” Harry squawks. “This is for work! And you promised not to call me that!”

“Hold up– You don’t wank?” Niall asks, looking at Harry as if he’s finally seeing the scar. “Bullshit. Your room used to smell so strongly of cum that I needed to wear an air freshener around my neck just to step inside. Stop acting like a kid who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”

“Niall, masturbation is based on a fantasy where two or more parties want each other.” Harry sighs. “I’m not– Sex just isn’t something I care about anymore, alright? It’s not in the cards for me. I don’t like people, I don’t like to be touched, and nobody with eyes would ever want to touch me.”

“That’s not true.” Niall scoffs. “You’re still one of the most attractive blokes I’ve ever seen.”

“Fuck off.” Harry grumbles. “I look like the Phantom of the Opera.”

“Ugh, how good did Gerard Butler look in that?” Niall sighs dreamily. 

“I look more like Lon Chaney.” Harry mutters.

“Does that make me Mary Philbin, then?” Niall giggles. “I’d prefer to be Emmy Rossum, but I can work with that.”

“Do you even hear the words that come out of your mouth?” Harry groans, rolling his eyes. “Is any of it intentional, or is it all just blurted at random?”

“Kind of a mix of both.” Niall shrugs.

“Then you should try shutting up.” Harry tells him.

“And you should try loosening up.” Niall counters. “Or at least let me use your laptop if you’re going to keep being bitchy and boring.”

“It’s for work.” Harry reiterates. “I need it to make sure that there’s nobody out there. I can’t do that if you’re playing around on the internet. Just go back to the bloody cottage.”

“You could at least talk to me in some other capacity than yelling at me.” Niall mumbles.

And, well, Harry would say that’s the final straw, the one that broke the camel’s back, but this particular dromedary’s spinal injury occurred two years ago. Harry thought it was dead and buried, but the damn thing has risen up from the grave and is now attacking Harry’s patience with a fervor that only the undead can achieve.

“What the fuck happened to you in the last two years that you think that you get to force yourself into somebody’s life and demand to be entertained when they don’t even want to see you, much less talk to you?” Harry asks sharply, slamming his book closed. “I have no obligation to you, Niall. None whatsoever. I don’t owe you thanks or civility or entertainment. I’m not going to throw you out in this weather, because I don’t want guilt weighing on me if anything happens, but that’s the most you’re going to get from me. 

“Whatever we were to each other, that’s gone now. That was gone the second I woke up with a three sentence note taped to my bedroom door and an empty slip down at the marina. I don’t owe you shit. Most especially a conversation though, because you didn’t think I deserved one either.”

“I said that I’m sorry, Harry.” Niall sighs.

“You think that’s enough?” Harry growls. “‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t even cover what you’ve done to me this morning. It doesn’t cover barging into my home when you aren’t wanted here, it doesn’t cover forcing me to take off my mask when I don’t want people seeing my face, and it doesn’t even begin to cover my best friend sneaking off in the middle of the night without even giving me the chance to say goodbye!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Niall yells. It’s startling to say the least. Niall never yells. He never loses his temper to that point. He’ll hiss and growl and spit, he’ll fold his fingers into a fist and plant it into someone’s jaw, but he never yells. At least, the old Niall never did. “Of course I know that! I know it’s not even close to enough! I don’t have anything else though, Harry. ‘I’m sorry’ is all I’ve got. I didn’t plan any of this. I just– I heard that you were in trouble and I came up here.”

“I’m not in trouble, Niall.” Harry mutters.

“You are, though.” Niall murmurs. “I’m scared for you, Harry. If you keep going the way you are, I’m scared that you’ll-”

“I’ll what, Niall?” Harry cuts him off. “I already told them I won’t kill myself.”

“That’s not what I’m afraid of.” Niall says quietly. “I know that you won’t do that. I also know that if you keep on this path, you’ll lose yourself completely in your anger. I don’t want that to happen to you, Haz.”

“Stop calling me that!” Harry grits out, slamming his book down on the table hard enough to make Niall flinch. “Have any of you considered that you’re the problem? That having you four trying to force me into being somebody I’m not is the reason I’m so angry?”

“I’m not trying to force you into anything.” Niall argues.

“Who are you kidding?” Harry scoffs. “That’s all you’ve done since you got here. The mask, breakfast, this fucking conversation– All of it has been you making me do things that I don’t want to do. You always were good at deluding yourself, though, so I shouldn’t even bother trying to explain to you that you’re the one in the wrong. God forbid you accept responsibility for your actions.”

“Fuck you.” Niall spits out, clutching at the pendant of a necklace that Harry can’t see beneath the cotton of his shirt. “You’re not the only one that’s changed in the last two years, Harry. I’m not a kid anymore. I take responsibility for my actions.”

“You’re passing it off, right now!” Harry hisses. “Don’t act like you don’t know that I’m right about this.”

“Fine!” Niall groans. “Yes! You’re right! Being the monster that I am, I wanted to see your face, and make sure you were fed, and talk to you! I missed you, Harry! You may not have missed me, but I missed you so fucking much while I was gone.”

“Funny, seeing as you had already been back for days before we ran into each other.” Harry mutters bitterly.

“I was working up to it.” Niall sighs. “There’s– There’s some stuff I wanted to talk to you about, but I’m not ready. I was trying to work up to it, but then Louis and Liam talked to me, and I knew I couldn’t wait until I was ready to see you. So I decided that I had to come out here this morning, regardless of how prepared I was. I didn’t mean to show up so early, but when the storm hit, I knew that I had to come up here before the road washed out completely and I couldn’t get here.”

“You didn’t, though.” Harry points out. “You didn’t have to come up here. You could be safe and sound, entertaining yourself wherever you’re staying.”

“Actually– I, uh-” Niall stammers. “I’m kind of living on my boat, at the moment, so-”

“So this is a relief for you.” Harry finishes for him.

“Little bit.” Niall admits.

“I’m sure Gemma can set you up in one of our rental units for cheap.” Harry tells him. “I think we have a few free at the moment. I’m not sure, though. I don’t really keep up with that side of things. Gemma runs that, and I run this.”

“Seems a bit lopsided.” Niall mumbles.

“Well, she got the main house and the majority of the business in the will, so it’s hers to do what she wants with it.” Harry mutters. “Besides, nobody wants to look at my face while trying to find a place to live. It’s better for everyone if I stay out here. I help her where she needs it, looking over the contracts and stuff like that, but real estate is all about being charming, and I’m not. I like what I do here. I help people.”

“I know.” Niall nods. “I heard around the village that there hasn’t been a single fatality around here since you took over.”

“At sea.” Harry corrects him. “No fatalities at sea.”

“Obviously.” Niall snorts. “Your job is to direct people at sea, not on land.”

It dawns on Harry then. They didn’t tell him everything. Liam and Louis left that part of Harry’s past out of the equation. They left it up to him to tell Niall about the accident. Part of him wants to be angry, wants to rage that it’s unfair to tell Niall that Harry has become a monster without telling him why. 

The other part of him is grateful though. It’s not their story to tell, and Harry wouldn’t want them to, because they refuse to acknowledge the truth behind it. They try to take blame that isn’t theirs, and to absolve Harry of his own. It’s why he stopped talking to them. Only Harry can tell the true story.

He opens his mouth to tell Niall the truth, but nothing comes out. The words don’t form on his tongue to tell Niall this darkest of truths. He deserves to hear it, deserves to know that the man sitting next to him is a murderer, but Harry just can’t do it. Not yet. Not in response to a stupid joke. 

So he seals his lips tightly together and picks up his book, opening it up to where he left off and opting to ignore Niall when the drumming of his fingers starts back up.

 

Niall is in Harry’s kitchen, humming some tune that Harry doesn’t know the name of and chopping vegetables for dinner. He’s been there all day, begged his way in over twelve hours ago, and Harry still can’t wrap his mind around it. It doesn’t make sense that there’s even another person in Harry’s cottage, let alone this particular one. It doesn’t make sense that Niall is back in the village, or that he’s here, or that he’s making fucking dinner like he lives here or something. But there he is, and it’s either true, or Harry has finally lost his mind. He doesn’t even want to begin analyzing why the subconscious manifestation of his psychosis would be Niall Horan of all people though, so he decides to accept it as reality.

“You’re a bit of a cliché, you know that?” Niall asks, glancing over at Harry.

“What fucking cliché?” Harry scoffs.

“Like, the clichéd lighthouse keeper.” Niall hums. “Look at what you’re reading. Up in the tower, it was ‘The Old Man and the Sea’, and down here it’s ‘Moby Dick’. What’s next, ‘Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea’?”

Harry flushes at that, ducking his face down towards the table. That actually was the last book he read before these two. So he likes nautical books. Sue him. They’re all classics for a reason.

“I just finished ‘Twenty-Thousand Leagues’.” Harry admits sheepishly. “I was thinking ‘Lighthouse at the End of the World’, actually.”

“Of course.” Niall snorts. “Have you considered ‘Treasure Island’ or ‘Robinson Crusoe’?”

“Read them last month.” Harry sighs. “I might be in a bit of a maritime phase.”

“Have you read ‘A Voyage for Madmen’?” Niall asks. “It’s about the nineteen-sixty-eight Golden Globe sailing race. Great book.”

“I prefer fiction.” Harry tells him. “Ironically, I find it more realistic. The emotion is more raw and palpable in a character that an author creates than it is in a retelling of an actual event.”

“You haven’t changed nearly as much as I was warned to expect.” Niall chuckles, turning back to prepping their dinner.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Harry mumbles beneath his breath.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Niall laughs, making Harry’s blush flare back up. “For one thing, my hearing is better.”

“Fucking hell.” Harry grunts. Niall barely used to listen to Harry when he was talking directly to the blond, let alone when he was talking to himself.

“Might want to completely internalize your digs at me from now on.” Niall hums. “Or don’t. Your choice. It’s going to be a rough few days if you’re going to keep doing that though.”

“It’s going to be a rough few days, regardless of whether or not I bite back the things I have to say.” Harry counters.

“Do you think we could maybe make it through the meal before you start up being pissy with me again?” Niall asks quietly. “I’d like a few minutes to brace myself before the next round. Maybe wrap my wrists if we’re going to box.”

“I won’t try to hit you again.” Harry mumbles. “I’ll probably yell at you more, but I won’t lose it like that again.”

“I was more surprised about Liam than when you tried to hit me.” Niall tells him. “I probably deserved it. I doubt that he did.”

“He– He didn’t.” Harry admits. “But I wanted him gone, and he wasn’t going to leave on his own.”

“How long do I have until that happens to me?” Niall asks.

“Until the storm ends.” Harry sighs. “I may have tried to knock your teeth in, but I wouldn’t put your life in danger. If I threw you out before the storm breaks, even if you got to the main house quickly, you could still get sick, and you wouldn’t be able to get into town for a few days. You’re damn lucky that you didn’t get sick this morning. I don’t have much in the way of antibiotics. Just a few leftover penicillin from about a year ago.”

“What if you’d gotten sick?” Niall asks.

“Does it matter?” Harry scoffs.

“Well I’d like to know that you have some way of taking care of yourself if something happens out here, Harry.” Niall huffs. “There’s a reason that lighthouses are supposed to be crewed by two or three people, and not one. You need a relief up here.”

“Zero fatalities in two years, Niall.” Harry grumbles. “I’m doing just fine up here on my own.”

“What do you do when you get sick?” Niall questions.

“I push through it.” Harry shrugs.

“How?” Niall asks incredulously. “You always used to be such a baby when you were sick. So clingy and pathetic.”

“I’m past the point of needing anyone to take care of me.” Harry mutters.

“And yet, here I am making dinner.” Niall grins.

“You’re earning your keep.” Harry scoffs. “Might as well get some use out of you while you’re invading my space and privacy for days.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Niall snorts. “Just admit that you missed my fajitas, Styles.”

“Maybe a little.” Harry says under his breath, his lips breaking into a slight smile when Niall starts giggling. They leave it at that, and, for the first time in years, Harry feels just a little bit better.

 

The feeling doesn’t last long. Of course it doesn’t. It fades all too quickly when Harry crawls into his bed, only to be joined a moment later by Niall.

“What the hell are you doing?” Harry yelps, sitting up and glaring at Niall.

“Getting some sleep.” Niall says slowly, as if Harry can’t understand the words unless he’s being spoken to like a child.

“I said you can sleep in the chair!” Harry hisses.

“I can’t, actually.” Niall sighs. “I had a pretty bad knee injury last year. If I sleep in the chair, it’ll lock up and I won’t be able to move at all for the next few days. An hour or two at a time is fine, but any more than that will have me basically immobilized.”

“How is that my problem?” Harry scoffs.

“Do you want to carry me to the loo every time I need it?” Niall asks.

“Fuck. Fine.” Harry mutters, scooting as close to the wall as he can get and lying back down. “It’s not like this bed is tiny or anything.”

“We’ve shared smaller.” Niall chuckles. “Remember when we went camping and shared a sleeping bag?”

“We were ten.” Harry points out.

“We weren’t ten when we shared that cot at Liam and Louis’ place that night we stayed to help them paint in exchange for beer.” Niall counters. “We were eighteen, and this bed is bigger than that cot.”

“Whatever.” Harry mumbles, pulling the blanket up to his chin. “Watch out for Amanda. She gets defensive about having room to sleep.”

“Guess that means we should give her as much room as possible then, huh?” Niall asks, molding himself to Harry’s back.

Harry can’t help but shiver. He wants to run, but there’s nowhere left to go. He hasn’t had anything even resembling this level of human contact in two years. He hates even someone else’s hand touching him, but he doesn’t hate Niall’s arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him back until there’s no space left between his back and Niall’s front. He doesn’t hate Niall’s breath ghosting over the back of his neck, or the contented little sigh the blond lets out. 

It makes Harry’s gut twist with a certain familiarity, a longing that he thought was stuck firmly in his past. He can bury it though. Bury it beneath the pain and anger and bitterness of the past two years, both towards himself, and towards Niall. He’s got plenty enough to last him the next few decades, let alone the few days until Niall is safely back out of his life. Those feelings won’t resurface if Harry can help it.

But that doesn’t mean that he can’t enjoy falling asleep like this, just for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an update: I'm changing the schedule on this fic. Chapters will now come every four days instead of every five.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry gasps as he lurches off of the bed, coated in sweat and sobbing. That doesn’t make sense though. Harry didn’t get to the end of the dream. He didn’t finish it, and he always finishes them. As his breathing starts to even out, he realizes that the cries he’s hearing aren’t his own. They’re Niall’s.

Niall is in Harry’s cottage, in his bed, and he’s nearly choking with how hard he’s crying in his sleep.

Harry gives Niall’s shoulder a shake, and the blond springs up and asks, “Bress?”

“It’s Harry.” he tells Niall quietly.

“Oh god.” Niall breathes out, clutching at whatever necklace hangs beneath his shirt. “Right, yeah. Sorry about that. Did I wake you?”

“It doesn’t matter. I need to get up anyways.” Harry mutters. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Niall sighs, though the way he hugs his knees to his chest begs to differ. Harry doesn’t push it, doesn’t think he has the restraint to ask whose name was on the tip of Niall’s tongue when he woke, so he just lays back down and rolls over. “Do you, um– Do you mind if I take the first shower? I never got around to it yesterday, and I feel a bit gross.”

“Sure.” Harry agrees. He knows that’s not why Niall wants to rush off, why he climbs out of bed and races to the door so quickly, but he doesn’t care. If Niall needs to cry alone, then Harry isn’t going to stop him.

“I’ll save you some hot water.” Niall says quickly before the door closes behind him.

Harry snorts at that. It’s an old habit from when they lived together. Niall would always make sure to keep his showers short, because Harry had a real temper if his mornings didn’t start with a hot shower. He hasn’t had a hot shower since the hospital, though. It wouldn’t help his mood anymore, so he can’t be arsed to fix the hot water heater. Niall doesn’t know that though, and that thought only dawns on Harry after a few minutes wherein Harry is definitely not thinking about Niall in his shower.

He runs over to the door and throws it open, shouting, “Wait! The hot water is broken!”

He’s a second too late though, and Niall is already halfway inside, yelping and falling backwards out of the tub. Harry barely manages to catch him, saving him from cracking his head on the stone floor of the bathroom.

“You couldn’t have told me that before I was getting in?” Niall grunts, pushing himself out of Harry’s arms and turning his face away. “Was it revenge for waking you up or summat?”

“No.” Harry says, shaking his head and diverts his eyes to the floor. He’s already seen Niall naked far more than he needs to. It’s not helping anything. “I just forgot. I’m used to it by now, and it took a minute to click that you wouldn’t be expecting it.”

“Whatever.” Niall huffs. “You take the first shower then. I had enough cold showers on the ‘Derby Ram’. I’ll make coffee. I need something warm to start my day off before the cold front sets in.”

He wraps a towel around his waist and stomps out of the room, leaving Harry in stunned silence. Niall is a morning person, and always has been. It’s unheard of to see him like this without provocation. Two years changes a person, though. Harry knows that better than anyone. So he decides not to go after Niall, not to piss him off more than he already somehow has, because he doesn’t want to make these few days any harder on himself than they’re already going to be.

When he finally exits the bathroom, the only one he can see is Amanda. She’s perched on the edge of the bed, crouched and tail flicking like she’s on the prowl. Harry doesn’t see what she’s hunting until she’s springing off the bed. She moves as fast a lightning, and sinks her claws into Niall’s foot before Harry can say anything. Niall is on his back, wedged under the hot water heater, and screams, which is followed by a loud clanging sound and another yowl of pain.

“Get her off of me!” Niall yells, thrashing his foot to try and dislodge Amanda from the appendage.

Harry rushes forward and grabs her by the loose skin on the back of her neck, lifting her up and away as she reflexively goes limp. He has a carrier for when he needs to take her to the vet, and he shoves her inside to keep her out of the way when he goes back to Niall.

“I am so sorry about this, Ni.” Harry sighs, helping the blond up to his feet.

“Shit just keeps getting better and better today.” Niall mutters, letting Harry lift him up and carry him to the bathroom. Harry sits Niall down on the toilet, and then kneels down to get a look at his foot. “How’s it look, doc? Am I gonna lose it?”

“Don’t call me that.” Harry huffs. “And it’s fine. It won’t even need stitches. I’ll clean it out and wrap it for you.”

“Looks like that time as a pre-med student didn’t go completely to waste.” Niall scoffs.

“Guess not.” Harry says flatly. 

He’s not letting Niall bait him into a fight. He doesn’t want to lose his temper again. He has too many bullets in the chamber when it comes to Niall, and he’s not sure what letting it all out would do to either of them. All he knows for sure is that it would risk exposing things he isn’t sure he’ll ever be ready to have come to light.

“Why didn’t you finish, Harry?” Niall asks.

“Because I had to stay here.” Harry admits. “I wasn’t fit to be a doctor anymore.”

“How did your parents take that?” Niall questions. 

Harry sucks in a sharp breath at that, can’t help it despite his struggle not to react, and tries to cover it up with, “Didn’t make much difference to them. They died.”

“Oh shit.” Niall sighs. “That’s right. Sorry. It’s still weird to me that they’re gone. I keep forgetting. How did it happen?”

“Drunk driver.” Harry mutters. “Keep that off of the ground while I get the supplies, alright? The less I have to clean out of it, the better. Digging dust out will hurt.”

“I’m not looking to add any more pain to my morning, thanks.” Niall scoffs, lifting his foot off of the ground. “Mind grabbing me a couple paracetamol for the headache?”

“Here.” Harry says, tossing Niall what’s left of his Vicodin supply. “That should more than take care of it.”

“Fucking hell, yeah it will.” Niall snorts. “Think this is a bit excessive, actually.”

“Just take half of one, and wait until after you’ve eaten.” Harry tells him, grabbing his med-kit and pulling it out. “I don’t have any paracetamol. My trip to the pharmacy was unexpectedly shortened before I thought to get some more.”

“I’m starting to regret how I handled that.” Niall says quietly. “I– I shouldn’t have just confronted you like that. I just saw you, recognized that ridiculous walk you do and the way you stand with your feet turned in, and it all clicked. It clicked that you were you, and you’d been running from me, and I reacted without really thinking at all.”

“Niall-” Harry drawls out, kneeling down in front of the blond again, his eyes flicking up to the edge of Niall’s towel towards where he has a scar of his own peeking out beneath the fabric. “Are you only sorry because I don’t have any paracetamol for you?”

“No.” Niall huffs. Harry levels him with an unimpressed stare, and Niall adds, “Not– Not only because of that.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Harry snorts, pulling out a cotton swab and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “A doctor would tell you that this is going to sting, but I’m not a doctor, and it’s going to burn like hell for a minute.”

He dumps the liquid over Niall’s foot, holding the appendage steady when Niall yowls and tries to jerk it away. He makes sure that the scratches are thoroughly bathed before he sets the bottle down, picking up the swab in its place. Niall is glaring at him angrily, but Harry ignores it as he runs the swab over each of the scratches, his grip on Niall’s ankle still firm because the blond keeps whimpering and trying to squirm away.

“Will you quit it?” Harry sighs. “I know it’s unpleasant, but this will go much quicker if you stay still.”

“I’ve had enough pain in that leg for a lifetime.” Niall mutters.

“I can see that.” Harry nods, gesturing at Niall’s scar. “Knee replacement?”

“Yeah.” Niall responds, his voice going tense and cold. That’s enough to tell Harry not to press further. Niall hasn’t actually asked about Harry’s scar – scars – and Harry will return that favor. “You almost done with that?”

“Don’t blame me if it ends up getting infected, turning gangrenous, and falling off.” Harry hums, dropping the swab into the rubbish bin and pulling out a roll of gauze.

“Must never have gotten to a class on bedside manner.” Niall grumbles.

“And people like you are the reason I’m relieved I never became a doctor.” Harry counters. “My job lets me help people who actually want to be helped, rather than people who would trade a better shot at health for temporary comfort.”

“Well, it bloody hurts!” Niall whines. “My foot hurts, and my head hurts, and I’m tired, and hungry, and I just want a hot bloody shower!”

“Normally people get more mature when they’ve aged by two years.” Harry grins.

“I’m not having a good morning.” Niall mutters.

“Guess you should have stayed on your boat, then.” Harry tells him. 

He’d been feeling almost normal for a second, but Niall brought that all crashing back down all too easily, because Harry knows that it’s him. He’s the reason that Niall was embarrassed to be crying, why Niall fell out of the cold shower that he wasn’t expecting, why Niall was attacked by a cat. Whether Harry wants Niall here or not, Niall is here because of Harry, and that makes this his fault.

“Harry-” Niall sighs.

“Can you wrap this yourself?” Harry asks icily. “I need to get up to the lighthouse. I have a job to do.”

“Fine.” Niall says quietly, reaching up to his bare chest and gripping at his necklace. It’s only then that Harry notices what the pendant actually is. He only sees it for a flash, only a fraction of a second before Niall’s hand wraps around it, but it’s unmistakable. The chain holds only two things, a pair of gold rings that look suspiciously similar to wedding bands.

Harry scrambles out of the room quickly, dressing himself as fast as possible and putting food out for Amanda, who he releases from her confines. After that he runs through the downpour to the lighthouse, praying Niall will stay away for the day.

 

“I’m pretty sure Herman Melville was gay.” Niall giggles as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“This again?” Harry sighs, glancing over his book to watch Niall make his way into the other chair.

“C’mon.” Niall snorts. “Ahab spends the whole book looking for dick.”

“Moby Dick.” Harry corrects. “It’s what the whale is named. He’s not just out on a hunt for cock.”

“Then how do you explain away Queequeg?” Niall asks with a bright smile. “The wandering prince who spends most of the story bare-chested, with focus on his tattoos, and has to share a bed with Ishmael? And whose coffin is the only thing to survive the wreckage, and ends up being Ishmael’s salvation? Come on. That’s pretty gay.”

“Did you really come up here to discuss the possibilities of homoerotic subtext in classical literature?” Harry asks.

“Nah, I got bored after the hot water ran out.” Niall says with a shrug. “And Amanda has been stalking me again since you left.”

“Wait– hot water?” Harry asks.

“I fixed the heater.” Niall nods. “Didn’t take much, actually. It’s a lot easier to do than most of the maintenance on the boat.”

“Is it a patch job, or will it hold?” Harry questions.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, Styles?” Niall scoffs. “It’s fixed, and it’ll stay that way.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Niall?” Harry asks harshly. “You had no right!”

“To do you a favor?” Niall asks incredulously.

“I didn’t ask for that!” Harry snaps. “And I didn’t want it!”

“Harry, what’s going on?” Niall asks carefully, looking Harry over like he’s a wild animal.

“You don’t get to do this!” Harry growls, standing up out of his chair and walking over across the lighthouse before he does something they’ll both regret. “You don’t get to just push your way into my life and start making changes to things!”

“You hate cold showers.” Niall points out.

“If I wanted it fixed, it would be fixed, Niall.” Harry bites out, staring out at the sea. “I didn’t want it fixed.”

“But-” Niall starts.

“It’s part of my routine, Niall.” Harry cuts him off. “It’s part of the way I choose to live. My water is always cold, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Haven’t you taken enough of my constants away from me already? Did you have to take this one too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Niall says quietly. “I– I was just trying to help. I thought that maybe you’d feel better with a hot shower or bath or something. You always used to be so pissy all day whenever you didn’t get one, and I thought-”

“You thought it would help.” Harry says flatly. “Except, it’s not the cold showers that have been making me angry, Niall. It’s you. It’s you showing up out of nowhere and thinking that we could possibly still mean anything to each other.”

“You mean something to me, Haz.” Niall says quietly, though it sounds as loud as a gunshot in the confines of the lighthouse.

“Well, I shouldn’t.” Harry mutters. “I’m– Niall, I’m not the same person you used to know.”

“So you’ve changed. We all have, Harry.” Niall sighs. “We’ve all been through rough shit that-”

“I killed my parents.” Harry admits breathlessly, his hands finding their home on his sides. His fingernails are sharp, even through the wool of his jumper, but he can barely feel the pain in the wake of the emotions that sweep through him with the confession.

“I got someone killed too.” Niall whispers back, his voice directly behind Harry, though the brunet has no idea of when he moved. 

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” Niall offers when Harry doesn’t respond, digging his hands under where Harry is gripping his own waist to pull them away. And Harry wants to laugh at Niall’s words, because that phrase is kind of an inside joke with the two of them, stemming from a lifetime of amicable competition, but there’s not enough levity in the world to push past what he’s feeling right now.

“It happened two nights after you left town.” Harry starts.


	7. Chapter 7

_The girl tries to peck Harry on the lips as they stumble out of the loo, but he ducks his head to the side and plants one on her cheek instead. He made it very clear before they fucked what it was, made sure she understood it was nothing serious, that it was just a way to relieve tension, but she tries anyways. They always do, because, well– Not to be vain, but he looks the way he does, and both men and women appreciate that. They always hope for something that he isn’t willing to give them, couldn’t even if he wanted to, because his heart belongs to someone else._

_She’s a very pretty girl, stunning really, with slightly too-bright platinum blond hair cropped short into a pixie cut and sparkling blue eyes that aren’t quite the right shade. Under normal circumstances, Harry wouldn’t have shagged her, wouldn’t have been willing to risk word getting around about who she looked like, but it doesn’t really matter now, does it? She’s a student just passing through the village tonight while she backpacks her way around the UK, and Harry will be leaving in a few days to start his third year in university, and Niall– Well, Niall is gone already._

_He gives her a smile that he doesn’t really feel, and then steers her off towards the table where all of her friends are sitting while he stumbles towards the bar. He raises his hand at Liam to signal that he’s ready for another pint, but only receives a hard glare in return._

_Liam finishes up with the customer he’s serving, and then walks over and silently takes Harry by the wrist, dragging him down to the unoccupied end of the bar far too quickly for Harry’s drunken feet to keep up with properly._

_He throws Harry into a chair, and growls out, “I told you the first time, two hours ago with the first girl, that, if you pulled that shit again, I’d have your balls.”_

_“It’s a bit soon for me to go again already, but give me a few minutes.” Harry hums, looking over his friend appreciatively. He’s never considered Liam before, always saw him more as a brother than a potential lover, but he has to admit that there’s possibility there. “You can have a turn too, brown eyes. I’ll even let you decide whether I top or bottom. The Styles Express is an equal opportunity ride for all pass-”_

_“Shut up.” Liam says harshly, walking around the bar. “I know this is hard on you. It’s hard on all of us, Harry. That doesn’t mean that you get to devolve into some sexed-up frat-boy. What would Ni-”_

_“Don’t say his name!” Harry snarls. “Who cares what he’d think? He certainly didn’t give a fuck about any of us! He didn’t care about a single one of us enough to tell us that he was leaving!”_

_“He’s– He’s going through some stuff, Harry.” Liam sighs. “He’s had it rough since he decided to drop out of school. And you know how much his dad dying shook him up. And then, with Zayn just leaving him like that– He needs time. He’ll be back.”_

_“’Dear Haz-‘” the younger lad drawls out, starting to voice the note that he’d memorized after reading it far too many times in the last forty-eight hours. “‘Sorry to do it like this, but I don’t have the best track record with goodbyes. I need to go somewhere else, somewhere that I don’t feel like I’m suffocating under everything. Tell everyone that I’m sorry.’ He’s not coming back, Liam. There’s nothing here for him anymore.”_

_“That’s not true.” Liam says quietly. “Give me your keys, Harry. I’ll call someone to come get you.”_

_“Our flat is two blocks from here, Liam.” Harry scoffs. “I’ll walk.”_

_“I don’t think you should stay there until you’ve calmed down a bit, green eyes.” Liam says gently, patting Harry’s shoulder. “Hand them over.”_

_“Whatever.” Harry mutters, fishing his keys out of his pocket and dropping them to the ground._

_Liam says nothing as he picks them up, heading behind the bar and dropping them into the fishbowl where they keep them for patrons who are too drunk to drive. The thing is, Harry knows when he’s too drunk to drive, and he’s not yet. He’s totally fine. So he waits a few minutes until Liam’s back is turned, until he and Louis are both distracted breaking up a fight between the two girls that Harry had hooked up with tonight, and steals them out of the bowl._

_He’s in his car by the time Liam runs out of the pub, and speeding off before he can be stopped. Liam is probably right about Harry needing to sleep somewhere other than the flat he shared with Niall. The way he feels right now, he’ll trash the place, and his father will be furious, since it’s one of his properties. He doesn’t want to disappoint his father any more than he already has, so he can just sleep this off on his parents’ couch._

 

“It started raining pretty hard when I was driving back.” Harry mutters, tears streaming down his cheeks. He’d left out bits, the parts about the girls, but it still feels like Niall could figure out what he’s actually confessing. That losing Niall was enough to make him spiral completely out of control because he loved him more than anything or anyone. “I was coming over that hill at the start of our drive, the one by the cliff side, and I didn’t have time to react, because they were right there. I tried to tug the wheel left, but I got all mixed up, and I slammed right into them.

“Both cars flipped and rolled. I went partially through the windshield, and I got cut up pretty badly, but my parents died on impact. Liam had called Gemma when I drove off, and she found us. I woke up three days later in the hospital with these scars, and my parents’ blood on my hands.”

“It was an accident, Harry.” Niall says gently, pulling Harry against his chest and running his hand through the snarled mess of his hair. “It’s not your fault.”

“I made the choice.” Harry chokes out, pushing away from the comfort that Niall is trying to offer. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t deserve it. “It _is_ my fault.”

“It isn’t.” Niall says firmly. His voice is fierce and determined and unwavering, but even that does nothing to work past Harry’s guilt. It’s the most resolute thing in Harry’s life. It’s the one constant that not even Niall can take away from him. “Harry, it’s not your fault.”

“Then whose fault is it, Niall?” Harry asks harshly. “Is it theirs? They chose to come to get me. Or maybe Liam? I mean, he didn’t watch me carefully enough, and that’s how I got my keys back. Or maybe it’s yours? After all, I wouldn’t have gotten so completely pissed if you hadn’t left like you did. Maybe I’ll go back even further, and blame Zayn for leaving you, or your father for dying!”

“Harry, stop.” Niall says softly, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder and forcing him to turn around and cupping his cheeks in both hands. “There’s nobody to blame for this. Sometimes– Sometimes bad shit just happens. It hurts, and it tears you apart, but blaming yourself doesn’t mean that you’re actually at fault. It took me a long time to figure that out for myself, but you have to trust me on this.”

“Can you just go?” Harry pleads, trying to turn away. Niall won’t let him though. His hands are as strong as his eyes, and neither is giving Harry any opportunity to do anything more than breathe shallowly through the lump in his throat. “Please, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“You don’t have to.” Niall tells him. He shifts the grip he has on one of Harry’s cheeks to his hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight when Harry tries to pull his hand away. “You don’t have to talk about it, but you do have to stop running from me.”

“Why?” Harry asks weakly.

“Because I can’t see you like this anymore.” Niall tells him. “I know better than anyone around here about carrying around guilt that you don’t deserve, and you’re so close to letting it destroy you. I refuse to let that happen.”

“That wasn’t an answer, Niall.” Harry sighs.

“It’s because I love you, you twat.” Niall says with a soft smile. “Always have, and I always will. I wasn’t here for you when you needed me, but I’m here now, Haz.”

“Stop calling me that.” Harry huffs petulantly.

“It’s either ‘Haz’, or ‘pet’.” Niall hums. “Those are your choices. Which would you prefer?”

“Neither.” Harry says flatly.

“‘Pet’ it is.” Niall decides. “Grab the radio, pet. We’re going back to the cottage.”

“I’m supposed to stay up here.” Harry points out. “I need to be near the computer if anyone is out there, or else-”

“Pet.” Niall cuts him off, leaning in and breathing the word over Harry’s lips from the proximity. And it makes him shiver, makes electric fingertips run down his spine in a way that he isn’t sure if he loves or hates. Either way, it’s threatening to break him down to the smallest level. He’ll be nothing but atoms scattered on the wind in just moments. “It’s a laptop. It moves. You don’t have to be up here, but you do have to eat. Therefore, you’re coming back down to the cottage with me.”

“Do you have a way of getting that very expensive piece of equipment back to the cottage without getting wet?” Harry questions. “Because, if you don’t, then I’m not going anywhere.”

“I lived on a ketch for over a year, Harry.” Niall scoffs. “Of course I have ways of getting tech around without risking it. Why do you always underestimate me?”

He uses the hand that he doesn’t still have firmly locked with Harry’s to produce a folded up bin bag from his back pocket, smirking smugly.

“Why do you even have that with you?” Harry asks, rolling his eyes.

“Because, I’m always prepared, pet.” Niall chuckles, dragging Harry along behind him as he walks to the desk. The metallic clink of the rings on his chest knocking together breaks through the static in Harry’s brain and makes him tear his hand free.

“Don’t touch me anymore.” Harry bites out, hiding his hand behind his back because it won’t stop shaking. “I’ll come with you, but don’t touch me.”

“Alright.” Niall agrees. He looks like he wants to argue it, but he doesn’t, and Harry takes it as a win. He needs it after the last few days. He needs one thing to go his way when everything seems to be working against him lately. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t like being touched.” Harry mutters.

It’s not a lie. It’s not the whole truth, is barely a fraction of the reason that Harry pulled away, but it’s not a lie. Harry never lies to Niall. Not technically. He’ll avoid the truth, skirt around the edges of it or hold it back behind his teeth, but he never outright lies when it comes to Niall. He’s not even sure he could.

Niall has always been able to read Harry from the day they met, been able to glance at Harry, and find every thought running through the brunet’s mind as easily as if they were printed on his skin. They haven’t seen each other or spoken for two years, but Harry knows, now as much as ever, Niall can read him. It’s a constant from before Harry even noticed them, from before he needed them to keep himself together. This one isn’t a comfort though. It would have been once, but not anymore.

“I get it.” Niall nods. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No you aren’t.” Harry scoffs. “You’ve loved doing it since we were kids.”

“I liked getting you riled up.” Niall huffs. “I never liked making you unhappy, pet.”

It takes everything Harry has in him not to shiver again. Instead, he wordlessly grabs the handheld radio and heads down the stairs. If Niall wants to bring the laptop then he’s more than welcome to do it all himself. Harry needs a minute to breathe. He needs a minute where Niall isn’t clogging his lungs and throat and pores with his presence, forcing things long buried to rumble and roar and rage for release from the box where Harry put them inside of himself.

The rain is cold between the tower and the cottage, but Harry can’t find it in himself to complain. It gives him an excuse to let out the gasp caught in his lungs and the tremble caged in his spine. It gives him a reason other than Niall to draw in ragged pants and shake like a leaf in the wind. He needs that. He needs something, some cause, other than Niall, because he can’t lie to the blond, but Harry is very, very good at lying to himself. Sometimes, though – Sometimes he needs a little extra help.

Amanda skitters away from the door when Harry steps inside, fleeing the droplets that shake off of him with every move he makes through the room.

In his haste to escape Niall earlier this morning, all he’d thought to put on was a wool jumper, and it’s soaked through. That was fine in the lighthouse, because it’s almost too warm, and dried him relatively quickly. The cottage isn’t that warm though, heated only by a small radiator in the corner, and a fireplace if Harry isn’t too lazy to build a fire.

He tears off his shirt, tossing it over the radiator to dry before he drops it in the hamper. His jeans and pants follow quickly afterwards, and he plucks a pair of joggers out of his tallboy to replace them.

He’s barely got them on when the door closes behind him and he hears Niall breath out, “Fuck, and I thought your chest got it bad.”

“The glass was under my back when Gemma dragged me out of the car through the windshield, and when she did CPR.” Harry explains, grabbing an oversized jumper and tugging it on. “The glass dug in farther, so the scars are worse.”

“Do they hurt?” Niall asks.

“Only when I work out too hard.” Harry tells him. “They limit my range of motion, but not so much that I can’t do anything. My face and throat are the only ones that hurt on a regular basis.”

“Then why do you have the Vicodin?” Niall asks.

“Because they do occasionally flare up a bit.” Harry admits. “Especially when the cold weather settles in. I wake up so sore sometimes I can barely get out of bed. The Vicodin helps me get up to the lighthouse and back down without having to get Gemma to help me with the stairs. I thought you said that I didn’t have to talk about this anymore.”

“You don’t.” Niall sighs. “Sorry. I just hadn’t realized it was so extensive.”

“It is what it is.” Harry mutters, crossing over to the kitchen. “What do you want to eat?”

“I already ate.” Niall says quietly. “Sit down and read a book or something. I’ll make you food.”

“If you’re not going to eat, then there’s no reason you should have to cook.” Harry shrugs, opening up his fridge and looking through the contents.

“Earning my keep, remember?” Niall hums. “Now, go away and let me cook. You’re an absolute terror in the kitchen, and I don’t need you distracting me.”

“I’ve been getting by just fine for the last two years.” Harry huffs.

And that’s not a lie either, but, again, it’s not strictly the most accurate truth. Harry can do some things well in a kitchen. He can bake better than most, and he makes really good tea, and his eggs generally turn out edible. Niall was the cook, though. Niall was the cook, and Harry cleaned. That worked for them. That worked, because neither of them really like blackened food that tasted remarkably similar to charcoal, no matter what the base ingredients were.

“Maybe.” Niall chuckles. “But I only had a single-burner electric stovetop and a tiny little oven on the Ram, and I’ve missed cooking in a full kitchen. So, will you let me cook? At least while I’m here?”

“If you really want to, I guess.” Harry mumbles, stepping away from the fridge. “I’m, uh– I’m going to take a kip then. I could use a bit more sleep.”

“Yeah, I’d say you could.” Niall nods, stepping into the vacancy that Harry left. There’s barely any space between them, chests just short of being pressed against each other, and Harry’s breath hitches in his throat again. “You look tired, pet.”

“Wake me up if anyone radios in?” Harry requests.

“No.” Niall says firmly, shaking his head. “I’ll take care of it if anyone needs help. I know how to do your job well enough to manage for a couple of hours. Take the help, pet. It’ll do you a world of good.”

“O- Okay.” Harry breathes out. “Don’t wreck my streak, yeah?”

“I won’t.” Niall scoffs. “But if you underestimate me one more time, I’ll find a way to make you regret it, pet.”

Harry doesn’t respond to that, can’t get a word past the unnamable knot of emotion lodged in his windpipe. He just sidles away, gulping once Niall can’t see the bob of his Adam’s apple. This storm needs to break soon, but when Harry looks out the window as he crawls into the bed, he gets the feeling it’s only just getting started.


	8. Chapter 8

_“Niall!” Harry groans, stumbling out of the bathroom door. “Niall! I need you to make your hangover cure!”_

_There’s no response. Normally, Harry wouldn’t mind that when his head is throbbing like this, but the silence in the flat doesn’t feel right. It’s damning. Niall hasn’t had the best run of things lately, has had almost too much to bear with his father dying and his boyfriend leaving him literally right before the funeral. Harry’s been trying so hard to keep him together, to help remind him that he isn’t alone and never will be as long as Harry has air in his lungs. It hasn’t been working as well as he’d like though._

_Bobby’s wake had been legendary, hosted by Liam and Louis down at the ‘Red Rover’, and attended by nearly the entire village throughout the day. Harry had decided that it wasn’t enough though. It wasn’t enough for Niall. He needed something closer. Something more private._

_So, last night, they’d had their own wake for just the two of them. Harry had nicked a few bottles of Bobby’s favorite whiskey on his way out of work at the pub, telling Liam and Louis to take them out of his paycheck. He’d dragged Niall into the living room from his bed, and they’d spent all night reminiscing about his father._

_At least, Harry thinks that’s how they’d spent the night. He doesn’t remember much after the first ten shots or so. Or, you know, anything if he’s being honest. What he does remember was being a lot further along than Niall before he blacked out. And, that’s really dangerous when you’re harboring a secret like Harry is. He had to risk it though. He had to try and get through to Niall, because Niall is his whole world. He’s the one thing that keeps Harry going when he wants to give up, and it’s only right that he tries to do the same for Niall._

_Niall’s bed is empty when Harry pushes his door open. That, in and of itself, isn’t that unusual. Niall crashes on the couch all the time. What’s unusual is what’s missing besides Niall._

_His mother’s quilt is gone from the foot of the bed. The frame containing the collage of photos that Niall has hung over his bed is laid out on the mattress, and at least half of the pictures are missing. The guitar stand in the corner is empty, devoid of the twin to the one that rests in Harry’s room, which they’d bought with their very first paychecks back in the day. The dresser drawers are vacant, and Niall’s favorite pair of boots are gone from their spot next to the door, and Bobby’s watch isn’t on the nightstand._

_And Harry wants to stay calm, wants to believe that there’s a rational reason behind all of this. Maybe Niall decided to move into Bobby’s house for a while. Or maybe Harry has been trying too hard, and Niall needs some time away from him. But there’s no messages on his phone from Niall. There’s no indication of where he is, or when he’ll be back._

_He rings up Liam and Louis, but neither of them answer. He’s not that surprised. It’s still early, just after sunrise. Harry wouldn’t even be up yet if he hadn’t had to rush to the bathroom after his stomach had decided it needed to be empty. He’ll just have to go to them._

_He finds it when he’s stuffing his foot into a sock, a piece of paper taped to his foot. He must have stepped on it earlier, when he’d dashed out of his door on his way to the loo. He hopes and prays before he turns it over that everything’s going to be alright, but he chokes on a sob when he reads over the few words that Niall has written._

_He’s out of his room before the note can even hit the floor, and out of the building before he can process that he’s only wearing a pair of briefs and one sock, not that he’d give a shit. No, this is much more important than a few people seeing him looking like a mess. Because, if he’s right, if this is really happening, then he’s going to have to get used to it. Being a mess will be his permanent state._

_The flat he shares with Niall is only a few blocks from the marina, so he reaches it in minutes. It’s not fast enough though. He’s not sure when Niall left, when he hauled everything onto the ‘Derby Ram’ and sailed out of the slip, but Harry falls to his knees when he reaches the end of the dock, scanning the horizon for her. For Niall._

_There’s nothing there, no sign of them. A soundless scream rips out of Harry’s throat, and just keeps going and going and going. He can’t breathe. Niall left and took the air in Harry’s lungs with him._

 

“Pet, wake up.”

Harry lunges forward, knocking something aside and gasping for air. His mind knows that his lungs are working, but his body doesn’t seem to. He can’t stop the deep breaths he’s taking, can’t get his heart rate to slow down, until something wraps around him from behind, squeezing him tight.

“You’re okay, pet.” Niall murmurs, stretching out his legs on the outside of Harry’s and hooking his chin over the brunet’s shoulder. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

“Don’t– Don’t touch me.” Harry chokes out.

“I’m not letting you go.” Niall says firmly, tightening his hold around Harry’s arms and chest. “Just breathe, pet.”

So Harry does. He forces himself to draw in a slow, deep breath, followed by another and another until his heart his hammering a different beat against the inside of his ribs than the one it does after his nightmares. The staccato rhythm it’s playing is familiar, but it’s an old tune that he didn’t think he’d ever hear again.

“That’s it, pet.” Niall says gently, stroking his fingers over Harry’s wrists. “Just like that. You’re alright. It was just a dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream.” Harry mutters. “It was a memory.”

“It was when I left, wasn’t it?” Niall asks, making Harry draw in a sharp breath. Too sharp, stabbing into his lungs like a knife before they’re ready for any more stress. Any more pain.

“How did you know?” Harry asks. Breathes, really, because he can’t make the words come out solid, audible, right.

“You were screaming my name, pet.” Niall whispers, turning his face into Harry’s neck so that the words hover at his pulse point and sink in below the skin, rushing through his blood until a frigid chill is forcing a shiver down his spine. “Can’t remember anything else I’ve ever done that would make you sound as haunted as that.”

“I– I didn’t know I did that.” Harry sighs. “I didn’t know I talked in my sleep.”

“Always have, pet.” Niall says, pressing a smile up against the skin under his lips. “Ever since we were kids. Used to just be stupid, random shit. I always liked listening to it. Not so much this time, though.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Harry groans.

“Because then you never would have slept around me again.” Niall says with a shrug that doesn’t loosen his grip at all. “You’d have been afraid you’d say the wrong thing in your sleep, so you’d never sleep with me again.”

“Did I?” Harry asks tentatively.

“Honestly, most of what you ever said didn’t even make sense.” Niall chuckles. “You used to dream about some weird shit. And sometimes you’d recite your favorite poems or passages of stories. Those were my favorites.”

“Why?” Harry questions.

“Because I could always tell how you were really feeling, based on which ones were on your mind.” Niall admits. “I could tell when you were happy, because you’d retell entire Ogden Nash poems word for word. And I could tell when you were upset, because you’d slip into Emily Dickinson. You’d go for Kerouac when you felt lost, or Wilde when you were feeling like you needed to let loose, or Hemmingway when you were getting overwhelmed. It helped me know where your head was when you were trying to hide from me.”

“Oh.” Harry breathes out. “That’s how you always knew how to handle me.”

“I wasn’t ‘handling’ you, pet.” Niall scoffs. “I just– I liked it when you’d only have Nash on your mind. I liked when you were happy. Sometimes I tried to tilt the scales in that direction, but I never manipulated you.”

“I meant that you always seemed to predict my moods.” Harry mumbles. “You always knew exactly what I needed, even before I did.”

“That has more to do with the fact that I know you better than anyone, pet.” Niall hums, nuzzling in closer so that his nose is buried in Harry’s hair and his eyelashes brush the shell of Harry’s ear.

“Niall?” Harry asks. “When are you going to let go of me?”

“When I think you’re actually feeling better.” Niall murmurs, his lips brushing Harry’s neck just enough to make him shiver again, which, in turn, makes Niall smirk in a way that Harry can physically feel.

“I’m fine.” Harry mutters, squirming in an attempt to free himself. “Stop it.”

“Ask nicely, pet.” Niall giggles.

“I will hit you in the bollocks so hard that they pop out of your throat unless you let me go right fucking now.” Harry growls.

“Remind me to teach you about manners again at some point.” Niall huffs. He releases Harry though, drops his arms away and pulls his face out of Harry’s space. “You seem to have forgotten them.”

“Are you trying to get me to go back on my promise not to try and hit you again?” Harry grits out. “Because you are well on your way to making that happen if you keep this shit up.”

“I was trying to help.” Niall says quietly. “You always-”

“When are you going to get it?” Harry snaps, cutting him off. “The version of me that you knew is gone. I’m not him, and I haven’t been for a very long time. You can either accept me as I am now, or not, I don’t care, but stop trying to hold onto a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore.”

“You’re the same person.” Niall says firmly. “Maybe you’ve changed a bit, but there’s still bits and pieces of my best friend in there.”

“I don’t want to be him anymore, Niall.” Harry spits. “He was stupid. He let himself get hurt, and let his mistakes get other people hurt. I’m better than that now. I’m stronger.”

“Will you quit fucking lying to yourself?” Niall scoffs. “Fine, you don’t want to be that guy anymore, even though he was one of the best people most of us have ever had the privilege to know. Whatever. That’s your choice. You aren’t stronger now, though. You’re meaner, and you’re isolated, and you guard yourself like the bloody Tower of London, but you aren’t strong. Whatever all this is, it isn’t strength. You’re running away.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Harry asks venomously before shoving his feet in his boots. “I’ll be in the tower. Don’t come up.”

“The laptop and bag are on the table with your lunch.” Niall mutters.

Harry closes the computer and shoves it in the bag, wrapping it around as many times as he can before he grabs the radio, his jacket, and his book. He hears Niall sigh loudly, but ignores it as he leaves, the food Niall made for him left behind without a thought.

 

“I told you to leave me alone.” Harry huffs when Niall shows up.

“You’ve been up here for eight hours, pet.” Niall says softly. “You didn’t have breakfast or lunch. You need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” Harry mutters.

“I don’t care.” Niall says with a shrug. “I’m not watching you starve yourself.”

“Niall, if I don’t skip a few meals, then we’re going to run out of food before this storm is over.” Harry sighs. “I don’t have enough supplies to last two people for more than a few days.”

“I’ve done an inventory of your kitchen. We’ll be fine, pet.” Niall tells him. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Someone has to think ahead, Niall.” Harry says quietly. “Obviously, that isn’t going to be you. You knew a fucking storm was coming, and what it does to the roads, but you came up here anyways, just because you wanted to be right. Now we’re stuck together until this storm breaks.”

“How do you know that this wasn’t my plan in the first place?” Niall counters.

“If it was, then you’re even dumber than I give you credit for.” Harry says with a roll of his eyes.

“Just because you don’t understand someone, that doesn’t make them dumb, pet.” Niall snorts.

“I do understand you, though.” Harry says quietly. “Because you haven’t changed. You always did things without thinking them through, from the time we were kids.”

“Getting caught up thinking about the consequences of everything I do would make life boring.” Niall chuckles. “It comes back to bite me in the arse sometimes, but it’s rarely dull.”

“Dull has its advantages.” Harry grumbles, turning back to his book.

“Oh yeah, because you seem so satisfied with where your life is.” Niall scoffs. “That’s why you’re a ray of fucking sunshine.”

“I’m absolutely fine when people actually leave me alone.” Harry grunts. “I just hate being around people. You most of all.”

“Oh, thanks.” Niall mutters.

“At least the others have accepted that I’ve changed, Niall.” Harry snaps. “You come back after two years and expect everything to be the same. It’s not. I’m not. Be offended all you want, but don’t act like I don’t have a good reason not to want you around. I get to hate you for what you did.”

“You do.” Niall nods. And – That’s not what Harry was expecting at all. “I didn’t come back here thinking that everything would be the same, pet. I’m not actually dumb. I knew that I hurt you, and that you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Then why come here?” Harry asks. “Why not just leave me alone like I want?”

“Because, if you kept running away, then I’d never get the chance to make things right.” Niall says gently. “I just want the chance to make up for running back then.”

“You can’t.” Harry tells him. “Niall, you just– You can’t, alright? Nothing you ever do or say is going to make up for abandoning me without a goodbye.”

“Oh.” Niall breathes out, looking down at the floor.

“I don’t know what I did to drive you away, but you could have told me.” Harry adds. “I deserved better than ‘Tell everyone that I’m sorry’. You didn’t even say it to me. It was for everyone else, but not for me.”

“I– I didn’t know what to say to you.” Niall admits. “You didn’t drive me away though. I needed space, and I needed time, but that wasn’t because of you. I planned on coming back once I got my head on right.”

“And that took two years?” Harry asks, hating himself for the desperation that’s creeping into his voice.

“It wasn’t supposed to.” Niall sighs. “Some things happened that kept me away for longer than I wanted to be. It was just supposed to be a few months. Then I was going to come back and – And things could be better. They could be right. Then that all got fucked up because I made some mistakes. This wasn’t what I meant to have happen. I didn’t mean to be gone for so long.”

“It’s not about how long you were gone, Niall.” Harry mutters. “It’s about how you left.”

“I panicked.” Niall mumbles. “Everything that happened in that week leading up to me leaving was too much. My father dying, and Zayn, and – And you. I got scared, and I ran, and I regret it. I should have stayed. I should have figured things out instead of just taking off after what happened that night.”

“You did what you had to do after your father died.” Harry says with a shrug. “And I did what I had to after I killed my parents. Who I am now, how I live, that’s the way it has to be.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Niall murmurs. “You don’t have to keep being alone, pet. There are people who want to be in your life. Gemma and Liam and Louis and me, we all want to be here with you.”

“Well, that’s too bad for all of you, then.” Harry says icily. “Gemma only cares because she feels like she has to. Liam and Louis pity me. You feel guilty. Those aren’t reasons to be around someone.”

“You’re so fucking wrong.” Niall sighs. “It has nothing to do with obligation, or pity, or guilt. Not for any of us, pet. We love you. We always have. I know you’ve got it in your head that you don’t deserve that, and I get that better than you know, but that doesn’t make it true.”

“You don’t get it, Niall.” Harry spits out. “You lost your father, yeah. But that wasn’t your fault. No matter what you or Gemma or Liam or Louis say, my parents are dead because of me. You don’t know what that feels like. You don’t know what it’s like to carry the death of someone who matters so much to you.”

“Yes I do.” Niall mumbles. “Because my husband is dead, and that is my fault.”


	9. Chapter 9

Harry’s mind reels at Niall’s confession. A part of him knew, knew those rings didn’t belong to anyone else, but he wasn’t prepared to actually hear the words out of Niall’s mouth. He feels like he needs to throw up, like his lungs have shriveled into nothing and his skin is cracking and his bones have turned into powder.

He’s not sure how he manages to find his voice enough to rasp out, “Husband?”

“I– I got married.” Niall breathes out. “It was so fucking stupid. We didn’t even know each other. We were both drunk off of our arses. I don’t even remember all of it to be honest. Just, like– Bits and pieces.”

“When?” Harry asks him. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it though. Fuck, he doesn’t want to know any of this.

“Three months after I left.” Niall admits. “We– We met in New York, but he wasn’t from there. He was Irish too. We met in a fucking pub, and like, we hit it off. Then we got pissed together because Derby won a match, and he was from Mullingar, and– I don’t know. Somewhere along the course of the evening, we decided that it would be a great idea to get married because we had good sex in the loo.

“So we found this fucking twenty-four hour quickie wedding cruise out of the bay that takes people out and they get married by the captain. They even sell these cheap, shitty rings, and they’ll mail in the marriage certificate for you. And– God, he had no fucking sea legs. He was fucking useless on a boat. That’s why he’s dead. Because he refused to get a divorce, and I refused to stop sailing around.

“When we woke up the next morning, I wanted to get divorced, but he wanted to see if things could work between us. He was Catholic, of course, so he didn’t want to do it unless we absolutely couldn’t work out. So I tried to shake him off by taking him out on the Ram. He was fucking stubborn though.

“He was miserable at sea, spent half his time razzing over the rails, but he held in there. He stuck with me wherever I went, put up with all my anger and everything else. Somewhere along the way, we stopped fighting quite so much. We stopped being strangers, and he started being my friend. And then things got really complicated between us, because we weren’t in love, not really, but we cared about each other. I think that just made things harder.

“One day we were fighting, and we just kept going and going and going. It was bad. We said horrible things to each other, things we never ended up being able to take back. We were anchored about thirty miles off the coast of Ireland. I’d been trying to teach him to sail for ages, trying to teach him the way things are done onboard, and why.

“He always left shit out though. He was a fucking slob sometimes. I was yelling at him because he’d forgotten to lash the cupboards after breakfast, and a swell hit us and knocked everything out of them. The cabin was a fucking mess. I was so fucking pissed off, and he was pissed off because I’d finally told him everything about myself, and I guess he didn’t like what he saw. He wasn’t happy with the stranger he drunkenly married nine months before. Go figure.

“We’d been fighting for so long that we didn’t notice the storm coming in until it was right on top of us. I tried to get out to the deck, but he’d fucked up lashing in one of the fishing spears, and it had shaken loose during the storm. I tripped on it, and that’s how I fucked up my knee. I tore it right open, and I couldn’t move. And, instead of listening to what I told him, Bressie decided to try and do everything himself.

“But he didn’t know what he was fucking doing. He grabbed the wrong line, and instead of raising the sail, he swung it right into himself. He didn’t have a life vest on. I– I couldn’t do anything to help him. I could barely move. I managed to radio in for help, but I passed out before they got there from the blood loss.

“They didn’t know to look for Bressie. There was nobody to help find him. They just got me into port because I was dying. Bressie washed up three days after I woke up from the hospital, and I had to identify him from his tattoos and his ring, because the fish had eaten his face.

“And– And then I was arrested. He had money, you see. He had money, and he’d left it all to me in his will. I still don’t even know when he changed it. His family had never met me though. They thought I’d tricked him into the marriage, and then killed him for the money.

“And I felt so guilty, so fucking guilty, that I didn’t argue it at first. I almost went to prison because of my guilt. I almost let them say that I murdered him. And, in a way, I did. He died because he met me. He died because I kept him on that boat, knowing full well he didn’t belong there. He died because I didn’t want to be married to him, and I was so mad that I let it compromise our safety. He’s dead because I’m selfish and a coward and impulsive.

“But the truth came out in court. He was dead because of me, but I didn’t murder him. I was acquitted, and I was granted custody of his estate. I only took enough to have the Ram salvaged and repaired, then I signed the rest over to his family. I’ve spent the last year in therapy, both psycho and physical, just trying to get myself together. As soon as I was ready to sail, I came back, because this is where I wanted to be for so long. I never should have left. If I hadn’t, Bressie and your parents might still be alive. You might still be okay. I might still be okay.”

“I– I don’t know what to say.” Harry says quietly.

“Just stop saying that I don’t know what it’s like.” Niall mutters. “We both have blood on our hands because we made mistakes. That doesn’t make us guilty of murder, Harry. It took me so long to realize that, but there’s a difference between getting somebody killed, and killing them.”

“Don’t.” Harry says weakly. “Don’t try to use me feeling like an arsehole to manipulate me.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, pet.” Niall tells him, cupping his hand over Harry’s knee and rubbing circles with his thumb. “I just– I wish things were different for you. I wish you could see things the way I do now. I wish you weren’t still in this place, because I know how much it hurts.”

“Did you ever love him?” Harry asks.

“I, um– I don’t know.” Niall admits, withdrawing his hand and grabbing at the rings hanging under his shirt. “It’s complicated. I mean, I think I could have one day. Maybe. He was a good guy. He was funny, and he was sweet, and we had a lot in common. We fought hard, but we made up harder. It wasn’t– It wasn’t always bad, but it wasn’t ever really that good either. We both had a lot of resentment. 

“Me for being trapped in a relationship I didn’t want, and him for being married to someone who made it no secret that it wasn’t what they wanted. I wasn’t willing to try, and that made things harder on both of us. Maybe I should have tried. It wasn’t what I wanted, but maybe it could have been if I’d just stopped fighting against it so hard. He was good, and maybe I would have fallen in love with him eventually, but I wasn’t in love with him yet, no.”

And, really, Harry doesn’t know if that’s a relief or not. He doesn’t know why he cares. He knows why he would have, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s not still in love with Niall, and he hasn’t been for a very long time. He may be a glutton for punishment, may have stuck around through boy after boy that Niall dated, may have shared a flat with Niall and Zayn, but even Harry has his limits. Even Harry can’t still be in love with someone who could abandon him without so much as a goodbye.

“Are you going to say anything?” Niall asks. “Anything at all?”

“I told you, I don’t know what to say.” Harry mutters.

“I just told you that I was married. I just told you my husband died. How can you have nothing to say to that?” Niall asks shakily.

“What exactly do you want me to say, Niall?” Harry questions.

“Anything!” Niall snaps. “Just have some kind of reaction!”

“Why?” Harry growls.

“Because you’re supposed to care!” Niall spits out. “You, out of everyone, are supposed to care!”

“Well I don’t.” Harry says flatly. “I don’t care, Niall. I don’t care, because, unlike everyone else, you chose to walk out of my life. I killed my parents, and I cut the others out. That was my choice. You walking away was yours. I get to stop caring after that.”

“You can’t just do that.” Niall mutters. “I know you. You can’t just stop caring about people.”

“I had to!” Harry roars. “I had to stop caring, because you left, and it would have destroyed me! It did destroy me! I couldn’t breathe because the one person who really mattered to me, my favorite person in the entire world, abandoned me without a word! You were the only one I had! You talk about how I’m supposed to care, but so were you, Niall! You were supposed to care, and you didn’t, so why should I?”

“I did care, Harry.” Niall says softly. “I never stopped caring about you. I was scared, and I ran, but that doesn’t mean that I stopped caring. I wanted to come back almost every day after I left. At first, I didn’t because I wasn’t ready. Then I just couldn’t because of Bressie, and then because I was in court, and then because of my recovery.”

“What did Bressie have to do with you not coming back?” Harry asks harshly.

“I couldn’t bring him back here and look you in the eye.” Niall mumbles. “Because you wouldn’t have been happy.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference to me.” Harry sighs. “Niall, the version of me who knew how to be happy died when my parents did. He was gone months before you met your husband. You coming back in a sham marriage wouldn’t have mattered. Who knows? Maybe if you’d settled in somewhere, you could have made it work.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Niall breathes out. “Fine. Whatever. Go down to the cottage. I’ll take the next shift up here.”

“I’m fine.” Harry tells him.

“You’re not invincible.” Niall grunts out. “You need to eat, and you need to sleep. I had dinner, and I slept earlier. Now, we can either keep arguing pointlessly, or you can go back to the bloody cottage and refresh. But, eventually, you’re going to be too weak to keep me from tying you down to the bed and force-feeding you.”

“I don’t care what promises I’ve made-” Harry says slowly, standing up from his chair. “If you ever try that, I’ll make sure you never eat solid food again. The laptop is for work, not porn.”

“Trust me, I’m definitely not in the mood.” Niall scoffs. “There’s a plate in the oven keeping dinner warm for you.”

“Fine.” Harry nods, heading for the stairs. “I’ll see you in the morning then. I’ll make breakfast and have it ready before I trade places with you.”

“Don’t.” Niall mutters. “I haven’t survived all of this just to die from eating your cooking.”

Harry huffs out a breath at that, but says nothing. He’s not sure he could get another word out right now. He can feel it building, can feel the knot of emotion he’s trying to ignore decide that it won’t allow that, as he moves down the stairs, and rushes faster to keep Niall from hearing it.

The first sob breaks loose just after he gets out through the door. The ground is hard beneath his knees when he falls, but he barely feels a thing through the tremors that are wracking his body. He doesn’t know where it’s all coming from, doesn’t know what source he needs to wall off to get it to stop, so he just lets it run its course. He digs his fingers into the mud beneath him, hunches his back to protect himself from the worst of the wind and rain, and lets out the pain that’s welled up inside him in a savage, primal scream that’s swallowed up by a clap of thunder.

He doesn’t move inside until the last of it exhausts itself. His limbs feel like lead, so heavy and dense that he can barely lift himself up. He knows that he’ll get sick if he stays out here any longer though. He can’t handle that on top of having Niall around. He doesn’t have the strength left in him to handle even one more thing piled on top of him right now.

He contemplates eating the meal Niall left for him, but his stomach is heaving already. He feels like he’s burning from the inside out, and barely manages to stumble to the sink before acid claws its way out of his throat. It’s a mess, bitter and harsh on his tongue. It splashes onto his jumper and hands, not that he has time to notice before another wave of nausea rolls through him and the process repeats itself.

Once he’s sure that his stomach is empty, that nothing more is forthcoming, he strips off his jumper and washes his hands clean. He can’t deny it anymore, can’t deny where this is coming from. No matter what’s happened, no matter how much pain he’s been in, no matter how much he’s smashed everything down, he’s still in love with Niall fucking Horan.


	10. Chapter 10

_The bus station is mostly empty when Harry storms in, only an attendant sleeping behind the counter and one other person sitting on a bench in the back. It’s him though. It’s the one that Harry is looking for, and his rage is incensed again as soon as he sees him._

_“What the hell is wrong with you?” Harry roars, fisting his hands in Zayn’s jacket and dragging him out of his seat just to pin him to the wall._

_“Hello to you too, Haz.” Zayn grunts out through a wince._

_“I asked you a question, and you’re going to fucking answer it.” Harry growls. “How could you do that to him? Today of all days?”_

_“I can’t do it anymore.” Zayn mutters. “I’m not– I’m not that guy, alright? I can’t stick around for this. I can’t help him through this.”_

_“He needs you!” Harry hisses. “He needs the man he loves to stand by him while he puts his father in the ground. If you can’t be there for him afterwards, if you need to leave tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that, because you’re a selfish bastard, then fine. Not today though. He needs you today.”_

_“It’s never been me he needed, is it?” Zayn scoffs. “I was his boyfriend, but you’re the one he needs. It’s always been you that he needs.”_

_“Cut the shit, Malik.” Harry spits out. “I don’t know what kind of stupid ideas you’ve got up in that useless head of yours, but he deserves better. You don’t get to just cut and run on him like this.”_

_“Why do you care?” Zayn asks, his voice sharp and dangerous. “You never liked me anyways.”_

_“I don’t have to like you.” Harry huffs. “For some reason, he loves you, and that’s what matters.”_

_“You’ll get your chance now.” Zayn sneers. “Can swoop in and finally have him all to yourself, just like you always wanted.”_

_“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry scoffs._

_“Who do you think you’re kidding?” Zayn snorts. “You may have him fooled into thinking that you aren’t in love with him, but I’m not that easy to pull one over on. I’ve known from day one.”_

_“I’m not in love with him.” Harry snaps, pulling Zayn towards himself just to slam the bastard back against the wall. He takes no small amount of pleasure from the pained look that crosses Zayn’s face. He may not actually be wrong, but he’s a dick, and Harry has hated his guts for the entire time he’s known him. Zayn Malik absolutely does not get to use Harry’s secret against him. “He is my best friend, and I love him like a brother, but that’s all it is.”_

_“Sure.” Zayn says with a wry laugh. “Keep telling yourself that, mate. I’m sure it’ll get easier with the next bloke he dates. And the next one after that. And, one day, when he’s married to some guy, and you’re still fucking around so that you can pretend you aren’t in love with him, maybe you’ll actually believe it.”_

_“Stop.” Harry breathes out. “Stop fucking with me just to pull attention away from the fact that you’re leaving him when he needs you most.”_

_“Like I said, Harry, it’s not me he needs right now.” Zayn mutters, reaching up and pulling Harry’s hands away from his collar. “It’s you. He’ll be upset about me leaving, but if you aren’t there in a few minutes, if you aren’t holding his hand when the service starts, then he’ll break. You need to go to him more than you need to be here.”_

_“So you really aren’t going to come back?” Harry asks weakly. “You’re going to do this to him today?”_

_“If I stay, it’ll hurt him worse in the end, because he’ll think I’m the guy he wants me to be, and I’m not.” Zayn sighs. “Despite what it looks like, I do care about him. That’s why I’m doing this. I know you’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”_

_“I told him not to get involved with you.” Harry mutters. “I told him that you’d be bad for him. He was so fucking hell-bent on being with you though.”_

_“I think you’re going to have to figure out why that was all on your own, mate.” Zayn says quietly. “You’re going to be late if you don’t leave now though. Go on. He needs you if he’s going to make it through this. And– And tell him, for whatever it’s worth, that I’m sorry. It’s just not who I am.”_

_“You’re a piece of shit for doing this to him.” Harry says, pulling away from Zayn and running towards the exit._

_He doesn’t turn back when Zayn calls after him with, “You should tell him!”_

_The funeral home isn’t too far away from the bus terminal, but Harry barely makes it in time. People are taking their seats, and Niall looks lost trying to greet everyone on their way in. A small smile pulls at the corner of Niall’s lips when he spots Harry walking up, and relief flashes in his eyes._

_“Ni, I– I tried. I’m so sorry.” Harry chokes out when he reaches the blond._

_“It’s okay, Haz.” Niall murmurs, leaning into Harry’s chest. “He had to go.”_

_“He’s a fucking idiot.” Harry mutters, wrapping his arms around Niall’s shoulders in an embrace that would be too tight if he weren’t trying to physically keep Niall together. Like he can squeeze and squeeze and squeeze, and that’ll keep Niall from falling to pieces._

_“I said that it’s okay, Haz.” Niall sighs, his breath bleeding through the fabric of Harry’s suit jacket and making him shiver. “It’s okay that he didn’t want to come back. Just – Just promise that you’ll stay. That’s all I need.”_

_“I’m not going anywhere.” Harry says adamantly, holding Niall just a bit tighter._

_“Will you sit with me?” Niall asks quietly. “If you don’t it’s just going to be me by myself.”_

_“That spot’s supposed to be for family, Niall.” Harry points out._

_“Well, my mum and my brother refused to come. All these years later, and they still haven’t forgiven him for moving, or me for going with him. So the only family Da had left here was me.” Niall says. “And– And you’re my family, Haz. You’re my family, and I want you with me.”_

_“Alright.” Harry nods._

_“Thank you.” Niall breathes out, breaking apart from Harry and lacing their fingers together as he makes the slow march down the aisle to say goodbye to his father for the final time._

 

According to the clock, Harry has only been asleep for five hours. Still, he wakes up alone besides Amanda being curled up behind his knees. He wakes up alone, to the sound of birds, and it feels normal, if not particularly good. Last night’s revelation is still spinning through his mind, still weighing heavy on his head and heart and stomach. But, in this one moment, he can block that out and revel in the familiarity of his constants. He can pretend, just for a moment, that he isn’t spinning out of control from everything that’s happening.

Amanda stretches lazily when Harry rolls onto his back, collapsing from the effort of it and butting her head against Harry’s side until he absentmindedly begins to pet her. This is good. This is normal. This is right. The birds outside his window, being alone– This is his normal. These are constants, and they steady him.

He hasn’t been able to take comfort in them since Niall showed up, but he can right now. He can take a cold shower, and he can take a few minutes to write in his journal, and then he can go up the too many stairs in the tower and be alone to take his notes once Niall leaves it. He can have his constants back. Niall may still be around, but, if they avoid each other until the storm is over, if they can live separately in the same space, then Harry might just make it through all of this and be able to keep himself together when he finally gets to be alone again.

Amanda breaks Harry out of his thoughts with a quick bite to his hand, and Harry laughs through the pain. It’s not exactly a constant, he manages to go most days without pissing her off enough to make her bite him, but it is relatively normal. She jumps off the bed and slinks away, probably afraid of reprisal. Harry wouldn’t give it though. Not right now. There are way more things on his mind than a bite from his cat.

He pushes himself off the bed and into the bathroom, turning on the shower. The look he gets of himself in the mirror is the first in days, and he regrets it immediately. His eyes are bloodshot, sunken and ringed with dark circles. His face is pale, making his scar stand out in even greater contrast. It looks even harsher than usual, bright and pink and shiny, slashing across his face to remind him of what he’s done.

Niall is wrong about him. He’s right about there being a difference between getting someone killed, and killing them. Niall tried. That’s the difference. Niall did everything that he could to save his husband. He tried to do the right thing. Harry didn’t. He made the wrong choice, made all the wrong choices, and that’s why his parents are dead. Niall got his husband killed by bringing him on the boat, but he tried to teach Bressie how to do things right. He tried, and Harry didn’t. Harry killed his parents the second that he took those keys.

Steam obscures his face in the mirror, and it’s only then that Harry realizes that he wasn’t paying attention when he turned the water on. For the last two years, it didn’t matter what faucet he turned. The water was always cold. Then Niall had to go and fix the bloody hot water heater, and now Harry has to decide whether or not to turn it over to cold, or let himself have this.

The temptation proves to be too much in the end. Harry almost cries from how amazing it feels when he steps into the shower. It’s not a constant, but it feels good. So, so good. He hadn’t even realized how tight his muscles were until the tension starts eking out of them. It’s almost overbearingly hot, scalding after so long without this kind of heat, but that’s a relief in and of itself. It burns away everything until Harry doesn’t have a thought left in his head. He’s just sensations strung together in a meaningless wave of pain and relief and pleasure and nothing all rolling together at a frequency that obliterates everything else.

Harry doesn’t get out until the water runs cold, draining the entire supply in his appreciation of it. That’s okay though. That’s okay, because Niall fixed the heater, so there will be more.

And, even if it wasn’t something that Harry wanted, even if it takes away one of his constants, Harry is thankful. He forgot what it feels like for his skin and his muscles and his joints to not be stiff. What it feels like for his scars to stop aching. What it’s like to be freer of pain than he has in two years, even if it’s just the physical side.

He knows he won’t be able to say it though. He won’t be able to make the words come out of his mouth. He’s thankful, yes, but he also resents Niall so much that he could burst. Because he still loves him. He still loves Niall, and that hurts so much worse than it ever did before. Worse than realizing it when he was seventeen, worse than when Niall was with Zayn, and worse than when Niall left. Because he thought it was over. He thought he was free of it, and now he knows he isn’t, and these shackles are binding him all over again.

And the really twisted thing about it, the thing that makes his stomach churn and his heart ache, is that he knew it all along. He refused to believe it, forced himself to think that he’d managed to get past this, and now he can’t do it anymore. He can’t keep lying to himself, because Niall shattered the illusion that Harry has so skillfully been casting over himself for all this time. He’s broken it, and Harry can’t put it back together.

And now that he doesn’t have the distraction of the shower, Harry’s mind flies right back to that place. He can’t have that though. He can’t go there. He needs more time before he can start dealing with all of that again, before he can start pushing it down. Because he’s frazzled. He’s frayed and anxious and raw in a way he hasn’t felt in far too long, and he needs to remember how to quash that. To quench the spark before it becomes an inferno.

He’s let the wildfire that is Niall consume him one too many times, and he’s tired of getting burned. He may not be able to help his feelings, may not be able to force himself into eliminating them, but he can damn well make sure they don’t play havoc with him again. He just needs to figure out how first.

So, since he can’t do his data entry right now, can’t make himself go blank in the easiest way, he turns to the next best method. He bakes.

Harry likes baking. He likes the mindlessness that he can settle into, because everything is just muscle memory for him now. And he can’t cook, for whatever reason, but he can bake. It’s mostly how he’s survived the last two years. Even he can only stand so much of his burnt and blackened and bitter cooking, so he supplements his diet with scones and muffins and other things that he can make that turn out in colors other than obsidian and onyx and coal.

He gets to work, settling into the routine of it. And maybe he takes his time, but that’s fine. He still has a little while before he needs to trade off with Niall in the lighthouse. He works slowly with the mixture, zests the orange and washes the blueberries at a pace more leisurely than he normally would. He folds and he folds and he folds until he’s at risk of overmixing, and then pops the tray in the oven.

And when cleaning his mess doesn’t take as long as he needs, he turns to his journal, opening a new one. It’s crisp and pure and untouched by the kind of pain Harry’s going to put into it. It’s his last one, so he’ll need to buy the materials to make more soon. For now though, he’s fine. He has what he needs. So he lets his pen drop and taint the page. He lets everything flow out in tiny, scribbled letters and words and sentences that mash into each other and tangle and collide in an ugly way, because he’s not in the frame of mind to make everything bright and crisp and clean. It needs to be ugly, because Harry feels ugly. He feels rotten, from the inside out, and the snarled mess of lines captures that and holds it as proof.

The timer on the oven goes off just as Harry hits the bottom of the page. And he’s not done. Not really. But it’s a good stopping point for now. He can take it with him and keep going once he’s alone in the tower. It’s not fair to keep Niall waiting. Niall has been a lot of things to Harry, kind and cruel, strength and weakness, but he’s never been unfair. It’s not unfair to keep breaking someone’s heart when you don’t know it’s yours to shatter and smash and splinter, and Niall has never, can never, will never know that Harry’s bloodied organ is his to do whatever he wants with. That he holds Harry’s heart and mind and body and soul in his hands, even still. Even now.

He makes a thermos of tea while the scones cool, and then packs three up. He’s not hungry yet, but he knows that he will be soon. He hasn’t eaten in too long, and, even without the workouts that have become a near daily routine, he’s burning through his energy too fast with all of the turmoil going on inside of him. He feels his body starting to fade, feels the fatigue settling in over him, and he’s got to fix it before something goes really wrong. People rely on him to do his job right, to keep people safe, and he won’t let them all down again.

He sets out a dish of food for Amanda in the hopes that it’ll keep her satisfied enough to stop stalking Niall as prey, and then grabs his bag, stuffed full with his books and journal and meal, and leaves.

The stairs are easier today, his muscles not crying in protest as much as they normally would. And that feels good, but the glare he gets from Niall when he reaches the top doesn’t. He’s never experienced this before, never had Niall mad at him for this long, and he shrinks under the intensity.

“You missed all the fun.” Niall says dryly. “Just finished navigating a trawler into port.”

“Sorry.” Harry mumbles.

“Whatever.” Niall scoffs, standing up and pushing past Harry on his way down the stairs, calling over his shoulder to add, “See you in eight hours then.”

 

When nine hours pass, Harry doesn’t think much of it. Niall has never been very prompt, and he probably overslept. When it passes the ten hour mark, Harry starts to get frustrated. It’s not like he doesn’t do this for longer sometimes, not like he hasn’t spent double or even triple that amount of time up here. He can run down to the cottage on those days though. He can go down and not have to deal with hard glares and harsh words.

A few more minutes trickle by, and Harry decides he’s done waiting. Niall can fuck off. Even if Harry has to come back afterwards, he at least needs to change out his books and eat something and feed Amanda again. He’s run out of things to do, run out of pages to read and words to write. All he has left is his guilt and anger and pain, and it’s dangerous to let himself stew in those things for too long.

So he packs his things back up, grabs the handheld radio, and walks down the stairs. His stomach starts to knot up as he descends, begging him to go back up and avoid risking a confrontation.

It’s not like he wants one, either. He doesn’t. He hates fighting with anyone, but Niall most of all. Because he loses control of himself sometimes, and he knows all the points to hit with Niall. He can break him down with nothing more than a few words. He never wants to do that, though. And it’s not about being in love with him. It isn’t.

It’s about the fact that Niall was the bright spot in his life since he was young, and he never wants to be the one to dull that light. Life has already done that far too many times.

So he shrinks himself down before he enters the cottage. He withdraws and tightens in on himself, keeps his eyes low and his mouth in a tight line. It breaks immediately when he hears Niall let out a choked sob.

And, rage– Rage isn’t even close to being enough to describe what Harry is feeling. There are torn shreds of pages everywhere, the smell of leather burning in the fireplace. The bindings he made so carefully, so delicately, are curling in the flames, burning in an entirely different way than when he etched his name into the covers.

“What the hell did you do?” Harry roars, dropping his bag and stalking towards Niall.

“It– It isn’t in here!” Niall chokes out, looking just as furious as Harry feels. “It isn’t in any of them!”

“How dare you?” Harry snaps. “How could you fucking do this to me?”

“Did it even mean anything to you?” Niall asks, his voice dropping down to a whisper. “Did you actually mean anything you said?”

“What are you talking about?” Harry questions, confused as to how Niall thinks he gets to be the one that’s angry right now.

“These fucking things!” Niall growls, lifting up a handful of ripped paper. “You wrote about everything! Every stupid fucking thing worth remembering that ever happened is in here except that night, Harry!”

“There are pages and pages devoted to the night I killed my parents, Niall!” Harry grits out. “Half of those journals were devoted to it!”

“I’m talking about us!” Niall screams. “I’m talking about when you said you loved me! I’m talking about when we fucking slept together the night before I left, Harry!”

“No– I– We– We didn’t!” Harry stammers, backing away as fast as he can.

His mind is reeling, spinning with Niall’s words. It can’t be true. It can’t. Harry never would have told him, never would have taken advantage of him when he was in that state, never would have forgotten being allowed to taste and touch and feel him like that after so fucking long of wishing for that very thing. Niall has to be wrong. He has to be lying. It just can’t be true.

He doesn’t get the chance to find out though. One of those stupid fucking shreds of paper slips when his boot lands on it, and then Harry’s arms are reeling like his mind as he falls backwards. There’s a sharp pain in the back of his head when it cracks against the floor, and then everything fades to black as Niall drops to his knees beside Harry.


	11. Chapter 11

_“God, he was a fucking riot.” Harry snorts. He takes another shot of whiskey straight from the bottle, his glass long forgotten on the table. Pouring just takes too much time. This is much easier._

_“He was a bloody madman sometimes.” Niall nods along. And Harry hears him, listens to what he’s saying somewhere in the back of his mind, but he’s honestly a bit distracted. Niall’s lips are slick with whiskey, pink and soft like a cherry blossom with the way he’s been biting at them all night. He can’t really be expected to pay full attention when Niall’s eyes are so blue and his lips are so pink and his hair is mussed like that._

_Then he shakes his head to clear out the thought, because he shouldn’t be thinking that at all, let alone right now. Niall is vulnerable right now. He’s grieving. And, yeah, he’s single now for the first time in almost a year, but Harry can’t take advantage of Niall that way. Maybe– Maybe down the line he’ll have his chance to show Niall that he wants to give him the world, but not right now. Right now he just gets to show Niall support._

_“Haz?” Niall asks quietly. “What did he say?”_

_“Bobby said a lot of thing.” Harry shrugs. “Last thing he said to me was, ‘Harry, my boy, remember that whiskey works as well as toothpaste in a pinch.’”_

_“Of fucking course he did. It’s why he died of liver cancer in his forties.” Niall mutters. “I wasn’t asking about him though. I, um– I was talking about Zayn. What did he say when you found him?”_

_And, oh– That fucking hurts. Wow._

_“He said that he wasn’t that guy.” Harry admits. “He said that he couldn’t stick around, couldn’t help you through it, because that’s not who he is.”_

_“That’s it?” Niall asks. “That’s all he had to say?”_

_“He also said to tell you that, for whatever it’s worth, he’s sorry.” Harry tells him. “If you ask me, it’s fucking worthless, but that’s not up to me to decide.”_

_“And that’s everything?” Niall questions._

_“Pretty much.” Harry shrugs, taking a long pull off of his bottle of whiskey. He guzzles it down, drinks it so fast that it leaks a bit out of the corners of his lips. It helps though, a little bit, helps numb the throbbing pain in his chest. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and then drops the empty bottle next to the first one he’d drained. “None of the rest of it was really about you.”_

_“Did he say something awful about you?” Niall asks angrily. “Because I will knock his teeth-”_

_“No.” Harry cuts him off. “He was just talking about shite he doesn’t know anything about to buy time until I had to leave to get to the funeral before it started. He didn’t want to give me the chance to change his mind, I guess, so he ate up every bit of the time I had until I couldn’t stay there anymore.”_

_“So, what did he say?” Niall questions._

_“Nothing important.” Harry mutters._

_“Haz, what did he say?” Niall asks, pleads, crawling until he’s right in front of Harry with wide eyes and pink lips and mussed hair that Harry is having a harder time pushing down than he was a few minutes ago._

_“He said that it wasn’t him that you needed. It was me.” Harry sighs, darting his eyes to the ground. “He said that he was leaving because he’d never be the guy you wanted him to be, and that he was fine doing it because I’d be here to pick up the pieces.”_

_“I don’t need you to take care of me, Haz.” Niall mumbles. “But– But he wasn’t wrong about the first part. I can live without him. I don’t need him. I do need you though.”_

_“Can we talk about something else?” Harry begs. “I don’t want to talk about Zayn. I never have.”_

_“Why did you hate him so much?” Niall questions. And, fuck, he can’t do this. He can’t do this when Harry’s tongue is so loose and his mind is muddled. He can’t be asking this now, when Harry might actually tell him the whole truth._

_“Because I knew he’d hurt you.” Harry huffs. “I knew that he’d never treat you like you deserve to be treated, and he didn’t. He refused to introduce you to his family. He never once took you on a proper date. For god’s sake, he only called you Niall.”_

_“Um, that’s because it’s my name, Haz.” Niall snorts._

_“But that’s not what you do when you love someone.” Harry murmurs. “You– You call them something special, something that’s only between you two. The rest of the world gets to know you as Niall, but he should have known you as something else. Something that was only his, because you were his. That’s what I’d do, if– If I was with someone I loved, I’d want to remind them at every chance that they were mine, and I was theirs. Because a pet name isn’t just something cutesy. Not to me, anyways. It’s a way to remind someone that they have your heart.”_

_“What, um– What else would you do?” Niall asks. “What else would you do if you were with someone that you loved?”_

_“I’d take them out and show them off to the entire world.” Harry says quietly. “I’d have them spend time with my family so they knew they were a part of it, and so my family knew how important they were to me. I’d hold their hand as much as I was allowed, and kiss them just because I could, and worship them for the privilege of letting me love them.”_

_“I never knew you were such a romantic.” Niall says with a soft smile. “It’s hard to believe, with your track record.”_

_“Thanks.” Harry scoffs, wishing Niall weren’t between him and the table where the rest of the whiskey is._

_“Have you ever been in love?” Niall asks._

_“Yeah.” Harry breathes out. “He doesn’t feel the same way though, so nothing ever came of it.”_

_“Who was he?” Niall questions. “Sounds like a bloody moron.”_

_“Sometimes.” Harry chuckles. “He’s actually smarter than most people realize. I guess I’m just not right for him. He’s not stupid for not being in love with me.”_

_“You didn’t answer the question.” Niall points out. “Who is he?”_

_“None of your business.” Harry scoffs._

_“Is it someone I know?” Niall asks._

_“Niall, I’m not telling you.” Harry sighs._

_“Is it that older guy you hung out with all the time last year?” Niall asks. “What’s his name? It was something stupid. Grizzly? Grill?”_

_“It was Grimmy, and no.” Harry laughs. “He wasn’t my type at all. We were just friends.”_

_“Good. He was a twat.” Niall grins. “Was it that Ben bloke? What is it with you and older men?”_

_“Ben was just a friend too.” Harry says with a roll of his eyes._

_“You didn’t deny the thing about older guys though.” Niall smirks. “Oh my god– Is– Is it Liam or Louis?”_

_“Stop!” Harry cackles. “Of course not!”_

_“Is–” Niall starts, his voice suddenly losing all levity. “Is it Zayn? Is that why you didn’t want me to date him?”_

_“No!” Harry yelps. “Ni! How could you even think that?”_

_“Because you won’t tell me who it is.” Niall mutters. “Because you would never stay in the room too long when I was with him. Right off the bat, you reacted to him so strongly. You had more in common with him than I did. You were both quiet and withdrawn most of the time. You’re both in majors that don’t fit, because you actually want to do something artistic with your life. You’re both gorgeous. It makes sense.”_

_“I’m not in love with Zayn.” Harry says adamantly. “I fucking hate him.”_

_“Then why won’t you tell me?” Niall asks. “If it’s not Zayn, then why won’t you tell me?”_

_“Because it’s you!” Harry shouts, freezing on the spot as soon as the words are out of his mouth._

_And, it’s not true at all when they say things slow down during moments like this. Not for Harry, anyways. Everything speeds up instead. His heart pounds in his ears, and his mouth dries out instantly, and he’s slamming the door to his room before he even realizes that he’s moved._

_This can’t be happening. Not now. Not like this. Harry has held this in for over three years. It can’t be coming out as a drunken confession when he’s supposed to be helping Niall. Niall’s father died a week ago. Zayn left him an hour before the funeral. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. He’s not supposed to be making Niall feel worse than he already does._

_“Do you really mean that?” a small, achingly familiar voice asks from behind him. “Is it really me?”_

_“Don’t.” Harry pleads. “Don’t do this, Niall. Just forget what I said.”_

_“Answer me.” Niall demands._

_“Please, please don’t do this, Niall.” Harry whimpers, dropping onto his bed and gripping hard onto his own waist. He knows his fingers are going to leave bruises from the force he’s applying, but that’s the last thing on his mind. “Please.”_

_He can’t lie to Niall. He can hide the truth, but he can’t lie. He’s never lied to Niall. Not in all of the years they’ve known each other. Keeping a secret, even this secret, is one thing. This is different though. This is Niall asking him a question directly that he can’t answer. He can’t lie, but he can’t tell the truth, either. Not this time._

_“Are you in love with me?” Niall asks, tilting Harry’s chin up until their eyes meet._

_“Yes.” Harry breathes out. And– And, Harry feels almost like it should be freeing. It isn’t, though. It isn’t freeing to let out this secret, because Niall isn’t reacting._

_At least, he wasn’t. He wasn’t talking or blinking or moving. He wasn’t, and then he responds in a way that Harry didn’t see coming._

_The kiss is harsh, bruising and reeking of liquor. He pries Harry’s jaw open too quickly for his liking, and he uses more tongue and teeth than Harry had thought he would. And, it’s not the way he wanted it to be, not the way he’s pictured for so long, but it’s Niall. Niall is climbing into his lap and kissing him like the world is about to end, so, whether it matches his dreams or not, it’s good. It’s perfect. Niall is kissing him and it’s perfect._

_Niall pulls back, panting heavily and pressing his forehead to Harry’s while he whispers, “Prove it.”_

_“I– What– How?” Harry stammers._

_“How do you think?” Niall hums, drawing his hands away from Harry’s neck to tug at the hem of his own shirt until it’s coming off over his head. He presses his lips back against Harry’s feverishly and mumbles out, “Now you. Come on.”_

_So Harry complies. He rips open his shirt, ignoring the sound of his buttons scattering over the floor in favor of the moan that Niall lets out while he shrugs the fabric off. It reverberates through his bones, races through his veins, tingles along every nerve, and it lights a fire in his gut. He wants, craves, needs to hear that again and again._

_“Fuck, you’re going to regret that, but it was bloody hot.” Niall pants out against Harry’s lips, pushing him back down into the mattress._

_“Definitely not going to regret it.” Harry mutters, wasting no time getting his hands on Niall’s hips and flipping them over. “Not as long as this is what you want.”_

_“It is.” Niall nods. “So stop talking, and get a bloody move on. I’m guessing you’ve been waiting long enough.”_

_“You have no idea.” Harry murmurs, ducking in to connect their lips again._

_And it’s true. Niall doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand that it’s been three and a half years, but it’s felt like Harry’s entire life. Maybe it has been. Harry has loved Niall in one way or another for as long as he’s known him. He’s not sure when that love shifted, when it changed from fondness to something tender and adoring and devoted. He hasn’t figured out what caused the change. He just knows when he realized it._

_It was nothing special. It wasn’t like in a movie, wasn’t a sudden bolt of lightning during a romantically charged situation. It was just there one day, sitting on his chest while Niall was laughing at some stupid joke Harry made. It was like it had always been there, spurring him on to make Niall laugh more than anyone else did and smile brighter than anyone else could._

_It was an epiphany that felt like a lifetime in the making that he wanted to be the one that made Niall happier than any other person would ever be able to. He wanted to help Niall experience new things, to drag him back up when he hits the depths of despair, to take him to the highest crests of pleasure. He wanted to give Niall the world, and be his world in return._

_There was no bolt of lightning, just a final understanding of the warmth that spread through him whenever he was in Niall’s presence. And over time, that warmth has only grown stronger, fiercer, all-consuming. It’s a fire in Harry’s stomach, and now, after three and a half years of burning from the inside out, the flame is finally being quenched._

_So maybe he gets a bit rough, a bit possessive with the bruises he sucks into Niall’s neck and collarbones. It’s just– Niall makes the most amazing sounds as Harry marks him, a chorus of whimpers and grunts and moans that come in a hundred different tones that Harry wants to conduct like a symphony. He wants to record them and erase all of the music off of his computer to replace it, because music can’t possibly compare now that he’s heard these._

_“Haz, please!” Niall whines, lacing his fingers into Harry’s hair and lifting his head up and away from the blond’s chest, where he was becoming quite well acquainted with Niall’s nipple. “I feel like I’m about to explode!”_

_“What do you want?” Harry asks, moving his hand down to splay over the bulge tightening Niall’s jeans. “Just name it.”_

_“I just– I just want you to fuck me.” Niall breathes out. “Please. Don’t keep making me wait.”_

_“Okay.” Harry nods. His fingers go to the button of Niall’s trousers, and he asks, “Can I?”_

_“Please.” Niall repeats, rutting up against Harry’s palm._

_“I’ll take care of you.” Harry murmurs, slipping open the button and dragging down his zip._

_Niall lifts his hips and helps wiggle out of them as Harry slides them down his legs. God, his legs. They’re thin, but well defined, just like the rest of him. And Harry has always appreciated the way Niall looks, but it’s so different now that he gets to touch and taste and smell him this close. Harry wants to spend the rest of his life exploring every inch of Niall’s body, wants to make him feel better than he ever imagined possible. Niall’s impatient huff tells him that hurrying things along is the better option right now though._

_Well, that, and the way he pulls his own briefs off and tosses them over in the corner with a growled, “Haz!”_

_“Sorry, I just– Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Ni.” Harry whispers._

_“Oh.” Niall breathes out, his eyes going wide and his cheeks pinking up. “You– You really think so?”_

_“Yeah.” Harry says softly._

_Beautiful doesn’t really cover it though. Niall is magnificent. He’s radiant in a way that he’ll never really be able to grasp. He shines in a way that Harry’s never seen in any other person come close to. He sees the good in everything, even people like Harry. He can’t help but find the silver lining in every bit of life. So, yeah, Niall is beautiful outside and in. He’s absolutely magnificent._

_And Harry knows that Niall isn’t perfect. He knows that. Niall has issues, just like everyone else. He gets in fistfights with customers at the pub. He never studies, and then complains when he does poorly on exams. He plays his guitar at all fucking hours of the night. Niall isn’t perfect, but he’s perfect for Harry. He’s Harry’s silver lining._

_“Lube and condoms are in the drawer. Can you get those for me?” Harry asks._

_“Are you clean?” Niall asks, pulling open the drawer._

_“I, um – Yes. Yeah. I am, but-” Harry stammers._

_“Then this’ll be enough.” Niall hums, tossing the bottle of lube over._

_“I’ve never done this before.” Harry admits._

_“You’ve never topped any of the blokes you’ve been with?” Niall asks curiously._

_“I’ve never had sex bare.” Harry huffs, rolling his eyes._

_“Oh.” Niall chuckles. “Neither have I. I trust you though. Do you trust me?”_

_“Of course.” Harry says with a firm nod._

_“Do you have a problem with it?” Niall asks._

_“No.” Harry snorts, shaking his head. “I just want to be sure this is what you want.”_

_“Wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.” Niall scoffs. “But, if you keep taking ages, I’m just going to do everything myself.”_

_Harry scrambles after that, flopping onto his back to wrestle his absurdly tight jeans off as fast as he can. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see that, because he really does, but he’s not missing out on the chance to touch Niall in every way that he can right now._

_“Holy shite, you’re huge.” Niall breathes out. “Like, I always knew you had a big dick, but– I– I’ve never actually seen it like– Hard.”_

_“Um, thanks?” Harry says nervously._

_“I was going to say two fingers is fine, but– I, uh– I think three might be necessary.” Niall says almost absentmindedly, his eyes locked on Harry’s cock._

_And Harry isn’t self-conscious about his body, not for years now, but he still blushes under Niall’s gaze. He’s learned to accept his flaws, the way a bit of pudge clings to his hips no matter how hard he’s tried to get rid of it, the awkward length of his limbs, the birthmarks that look a bit like extra nipples. He’s gotten used to these imperfections, learned to love himself despite them, and that’s thanks to Niall. Niall is the one who pushed and pushed and pushed until he’d battered through Harry’s defenses enough to make him see himself in a better light. It’s different now though. It’s different when Niall is taking him all in in a completely different way than he has before._

_He doesn’t even realize that he’s reflexively crossed his arms over his stomach, gripping hard onto his hips again, until Niall reaches out and draws his hands away._

_“Stop that.” Niall murmurs. “There’s no reason to be nervous or insecure, yeah? It’s just me.”_

_“Exactly.” Harry mutters. “It’s you.”_

_“I’m not seeing anything I don’t like, Harry.” Niall says gently. “Trust me. Please.”_

_“I do.” Harry whispers._

_“Then stop getting so in your head, alright?” Niall requests. “I want you here in the moment with me.”_

_“Okay.” Harry agrees with a tentative nod._

_“Do you want me to take care of prepping myself?” Niall questions, reaching for the lube._

_“No!” Harry says a bit too loudly. “I mean– No. Please. Let me do it?”_

_“Been waiting for you to.” Niall smirks. “Just stay here with me, yeah? Don’t go getting lost up there.”_

_“I’ll stay right here.” Harry nods firmly, popping open the cap on the lube. “Nowhere I’d rather be.”_

_Niall’s legs spread wide, and it’s so, so inviting. And Harry can barely breathe, but in the best way. Of course he’s imagined this before, spent years picturing Niall open and inviting, but it was never even close to how breathtaking the real thing is. He couldn’t get right the flush that spreads over Niall’s neck and chest, couldn’t guess at how perfect the gasp from Niall’s lips would be when he presses in, couldn’t properly imagine the tight heat of him stretching around Harry’s finger._

_“Can I kiss you again?” Harry asks. He’s hovering over Niall, propped up on his left arm while the hand of the right works the blond open slowly._

_“Please.” Niall whimpers, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and drawing him down._

_This time isn’t the same as before, isn’t as hard, isn’t as fast, isn’t as hungry. Niall lets Harry take the lead this time, allows him to kiss like he wants to. It’s slower, more tender, and Harry prays that everything he’s feeling translates through the connection. He hopes that Niall can feel that this is real, isn’t just Harry looking for a shag, or trying to take Niall’s mind away from all the pain, or something spurred on by the alcohol. It’s real. It’s so fucking real._

_“Two. Go to two, please.” Niall begs breathlessly against Harry’s lips._

_So Harry does. He goes to two fingers, and then three when he gets the confirmation. He works Niall open as carefully as he can until his fingers are stiff and his wrist is aching and his arm burns from holding himself up, because he wants this to be as painless as he can make it for Niall. He wants to make it as good for Niall as Niall is for Harry, just by being the one that this is happening with._

_“I’m ready.” Niall whispers. “Please, Harry.”_

_“Are you sure?” Harry asks him._

_“Absolutely.” Niall murmurs. “I’m ready. Come on, Haz.”_

_“Let me know if I need to stop. I don’t want to hurt you.” Harry tells him._

_“I’m not going to break.” Niall laughs, knocking his forehead against Harry’s. “I’ll let you know if it’s too much, but you have to actually stick your huge cock in me first.”_

_“Give me a second.” Harry snorts, retracting his fingers._

_“I’ve given you like, a billion.” Niall scoffs._

_“You haven’t even been alive for that long.” Harry says with an eye roll. “One billion seconds is over thirty-one years.”_

_“Why do you even know that?” Niall questions._

_“I looked it up one time.” Harry says with a shrug. “I got curious, and google answers pretty much anything that pops into my head. Did you know butterflies taste with their feet?”_

_“Oh my god.” Niall giggles. “Will you just fuck me before I lose my boner from your weird random facts?”_

_“I have sexy facts I could tell you.” Harry smirks._

_“Haz, I swear I will flip you over and just fuck myself down onto you if you don’t hurry up.” Niall growls._

_“Is that what you want?” Harry asks. “We can do this however you want, Ni. I want you to be comfortable, so if you’d prefer to-”_

_“I want it like this.” Niall says quietly, slipping his fingers over Harry’s mouth to shut him up. “Just like this, so I can touch you and see you and kiss you.”_

_“Lift up for me.” Harry instructs, grabbing one of the pillows that Niall isn’t resting against and propping it under Niall’s arse when he follows the request. He lines himself up, and then adds, “Deep breath for me.”_

_“I’ve had sex before, Haz. I know what to-” Niall cuts himself off with a low groan when Harry starts pushing in._

_“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Harry asks worriedly, stopping his progression._

_“No!” Niall whines, sliding his hands down Harry’s back to cup his arse and drag him in further. “Haz, please!”_

_“I’m taking it slow because I don’t want to hurt you, Ni.” Harry whispers. He continues pushing in, pressing gentle kisses around Niall’s face when he scrunches his eyes closed and sucks in a sharp breath. “I never, ever want to hurt you. You mean the world to me. I love you. I never want to hurt you.”_

_He keeps babbling, keeps confessing the things he’d kept bottled up inside for so long until Niall popped the cork on them. Niall cuts him off with a kiss, digging his fingernails into the skin of Harry’s neck._

_This time is hungry again, but in a different way. It’s all consuming. Niall is so hot and tight and perfect around him, but Harry barely notices it for the kiss. He barely notices it for the way Niall’s lips work against his, and for the way Niall’s hands move up and tangle in his hair to pull him closer, and for the beautiful concert of noises Niall is making. He doesn’t really notice it for being allowed to finally fall into Niall and be accepted for all that he is by the one person that means more to him than anyone else._

_Of course, not noticing might not be the best thing in this situation, as Harry finds out all too soon. It catches him by surprise, sneaking up on him when he’s too lost in the pleasure of Niall to even think about his own._

_He cums far too early, burying himself inside Niall with a choked sob and a whimpered string of, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”_

_“It’s okay.” Niall murmurs, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple. “It happens.”_

_Harry kisses at Niall’s neck when he pulls out, trying to distract from the sensation before he starts working his way down. And Niall lets out the most beautiful gasp when Harry finally takes him into his mouth. It’s not the best blowjob Harry’s ever given, his head still fuzzy and his body heavy from his recent orgasm, but Niall seems to enjoy it regardless, if the way his moans rattle the windows is any indication._

_He wipes his lips after Niall finishes, a dopey smile on his face as he climbs back up and collapses next to the blond._

_“Was– Was that okay for you?” Harry asks after a minute of them both just lying there in silence._

_“Bloody brilliant.” Niall hums contentedly. “And now I’m bloody knackered.”_

_“Funny, seeing as I did all the work.” Harry scoffs._

_“Yeah.” Niall nods, turning onto his side and draping his arm over Harry’s waist and smirking. “But you kept taking all those breaks.”_

_“I just wanted it to be perfect.” Harry mumbles, burying his face in his pillow. “It’s bad enough that I told you about this by yelling it in your face. The least I could do is make our first time good for you.”_

_“It was.” Niall says softly, stroking his hand up and down Harry’s side. “Will you stop trying to hide from me? It’s not very effective.”_

_“I’m not trying to hide.” Harry sighs, turning his face out to properly see Niall again. “I just – I didn’t ever think this was going to happen. I never thought I’d be able to tell you. I just don’t want to lose you, and now-”_

_“Now nothing.” Niall cuts him off. “You’re not losing me, Haz. Go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning, and we can talk about this then. I promise.”_


	12. Chapter 12

Harry wakes to a particularly sharp pain in the back of his head, throbbing and stabbing and coursing through him strongly enough to rip him from unconsciousness. He tries to rub at it, but he can only move his right hand. When he tries to lift the left one, it feels far too heavy.

He opens his eyes, blinking away the pain from the low light, and finds Niall clutching his hand and sleeping with his head on top of their intertwined fingers. The memory, the full one, of that night hurtles into him, and he yanks his hand away, startling Niall awake.

“Haz?” Niall asks sleepily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” Harry mutters. “What happened?”

“You slipped and hit your head.” Niall says quietly. “I put you in the bed, and I tried waking you up, but this is the first time you’ve actually opened your eyes. How are you feeling? Any nausea? Pain? Disorientation?”

“A little bit of the first two.” Harry sighs, leaning his head back against the pillows. “How long have I been out?”

“Um– About three hours.” Niall says, looking at Bobby’s watch on his wrist. “Felt like a fucking decade, to be honest. I was scared out of my mind.”

“You were asleep.” Harry points out.

“I literally only fell asleep ten minutes ago.” Niall huffs. “I didn’t really sleep over the last twenty-four hours.”

“No, you were too busy violating the one thing left in my life that was truly important to me.” Harry spits out. “Now get out before I throw you out.”

He tries to sit up from the bed, but his head pounds and his stomach threatens to erupt before Niall pushes him back down with a firm, “I’m not going anywhere while you have a concussion.”

“Get out!” Harry repeats harshly, slapping Niall’s hands away from him. “I don’t ever want to see your face again!”

“I’m sorry.” Niall breathes out. “Haz, I’m so sorry.”

“I remember it all now!” Harry hisses.

“I know.” Niall says weakly. “I– I figured it out after you slipped. I realized that the reason that it wasn’t in there wasn’t because it didn’t matter to you. It’s because you didn’t remember it. Then you started having your end of the whole conversation in your sleep, and I knew you were remembering it.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter why it wasn’t in there, Niall!” Harry growls. “You had no right to touch those journals! You had no right to read them or tear them up or yell at me for what was or wasn’t inside of them!”

“I know that.” Niall says quietly. “I just – I had to know what had happened between that night and now that made you not care that I got married. I knew you’d never tell me if you met someone or anything like that, but I had to know. And then I just started seeing red when I got through all of them and I couldn’t find a single reference to what happened between us.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Harry scoffs. “You run off in the middle of the night after I told you that I was in love with you and we had sex, after you promised that we’d talk about it when I woke up, and you have the audacity to get pissed off at me for moving on?”

“I wasn’t pissed off.” Niall sighs. “I was hurt. It meant so much to me, and-”

“Shut the fuck up right now before I crush your jaw.” Harry snarls. “You don’t get to say that to me. You never, ever get to say that to me. Not after what you did. Not after you let me believe that there was something between us just long enough for me to fall asleep so you could run away. You could have just said no, Niall. You could have told me that you didn’t feel the same way. You didn’t have to pity fuck me and then leave me behind like a piece of rubbish.”

“That’s not what happened.” Niall says desperately, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “Haz, you have to believe me, that’s not how it was meant to go. It mattered to me so much more than you know. I know how it looks, but it’s not like that.”

“Shut up!” Harry yells, wincing at the rush of pain through his head. “You’re such a fucking liar!”

“Harry, it mattered to me.” Niall says adamantly.

Harry lurches off the bed, but Niall pushes him back down. The thing is, Harry wasn’t trying to go after him. He was trying to make it to the sink or the bathroom or the bin. He was trying to get anywhere where he could throw up without it getting everywhere, but Niall kind of foiled that, so Harry doesn’t feel that bad about it when he projectile vomits all over Niall’s lap. Actually, he doesn’t feel bad about it at all.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say you have a concussion.” Niall sighs, grimacing down at the mess covering his body.

“Go fuck yourself.” Harry mutters, fighting back another wave of nausea as the smell hits him.

“Just for that, I’m wearing your clothes.” Niall huffs, standing up from the chair he’d dragged over to Harry’s bedside. “Not that I really had much choice. Here’s a bowl in case you have to do that again. Will you be good for the next few minutes while I wash up?”

“As soon as I can get out of this bed without needing to vomit or hold onto anything, I’m throwing you out of here.” Harry tells him, snatching the bowl and putting it next to him. “So you should pick something warm.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Niall chuckles, heading off towards the bathroom.

Harry falls asleep again before Niall gets back.

 

_“Oh, you’ll never guess what happened to me today.” Harry laughs. “You know that slightly older couple from down the block? The Australian blokes who fuck so loudly that they’ve had the police called on them three times?”_

_“Luke and Ashton.” Niall nods. “Nice guys. They want to come over and borrow the grill at some point.”_

_“They want more than that.” Harry smirks. “They asked me to join them some time.”_

_“For a barbeque?” Niall asks, looking up from his text book._

_“For a shag.” Harry chuckles. He doesn’t know why he bothers trying. He doesn’t know why he keeps hoping to see a spark of jealousy, any indication that it bothers Niall that Harry sleeps around the way he does, but it’s never there. It still isn’t. “They want to spitroast me.”_

_“Are you going to?” Niall asks, looking back down to his book, unfazed. He couldn’t sound less interested if someone paid him to._

_“I’m thinking about it.” Harry tells him. “They’re both fit, and I haven’t had a threesome in a while. Not since that guy and girl from the club– what, six months back?”_

_“Five, and is that really wise?” Niall asks. “Getting involved with a couple, I mean. Won’t that just create drama? Thought you avoided that in your shags.”_

_“They both seem onboard with the idea.” Harry says with a shrug. “It’ll probably just be a onetime thing.”_

_“Probably?” Niall scoffs. “It’s always a onetime thing for you.”_

_“I mean, they both had lots of ideas.” Harry hums. “Even I don’t have the stamina to get through all of them in one night. Might be a reoccurring thing if it’s good.”_

_“It’s your body, mate.” Niall mutters. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when it all goes to shite because someone gets jealous.”_

_“Jealous people don’t proposition neighbors for threesomes.” Harry counters._

_“People will put up with most anything when it comes to someone they love.” Niall huffs. “They’ll pretend to go along with something, even if it hurts them, because they want the one they love to be happy. That doesn’t mean they’ll be able to keep a lid on that pain when things become real, though.”_

_“Then I guess people should just be honest with each other.” Harry scoffs, nearly wincing at the irony of the turn this conversation has taken._

_“Maybe honesty isn’t always the best way to make someone that you care about happy.” Niall says snappishly, slamming his book shut._

_“Boys! I’ve got an arse load of Chinese takeaway, and it would be great if someone could help with it.” Zayn says as the door flies open, interrupting the fight. Harry does wince this time, hoping it can be taken as a flinch from the sudden intrusion, and not the sinking feeling in his stomach that happens literally every time he sees or hears Niall’s wretched fucking boyfriend._

_“Thought Fridays were your date nights.” Harry mutters, climbing out of his chair and grabbing a bag out of Zayn’s arms to set it on the table._

_“They are, but I’m not going to be here Friday night.” Niall says quietly. “Bobby called. He’s going in for a biopsy Friday morning because they found a mass on his liver. Zayn let me reschedule for tonight.”_

_“I brought enough beef and broccoli to feed an army, as well as ‘Iron Man’ one through three and ‘Love Actually’, because Harry likes the soppy shite.” Zayn grins as he begins unloading his bag._

_“Don’t worry. Neither of you will have to watch my ‘soppy shite’.” Harry tells them. “I have to go see some Aussies about tossing their shrimps on my barbie.”_

_“You don’t have to go, Haz.” Niall says quietly. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you.”_

_“It’s not a problem.” Harry sighs. “You two have your privacy, and I’ll have multiple orgasms with the hot surfer boys. It’s win, win. Do you want me to drive you up on Thursday night?”_

_“You have your last final exam Friday morning.” Niall points out._

_“I’m going to fail that class no matter how I score on the final.” Harry shrugs. “I’m just going to have to retake it. Can’t stay awake during those lectures to save my life. Do you want the ride or not?”_

_“Yeah, thanks.” Niall nods._

_“Alright.” Harry says, grabbing his jacket off of the rack and then turning to the mirror by the front door to make sure he looks presentable._

_He’s still in the outfit he’d worn to classes earlier, a pair of too-tight, black jeans and a t-shirt that’s held together more by prayer than fabric anymore. The leather jacket gives him enough of a bad boy vibe to get away with it as long as he slicks his hair back a bit, instead of letting it go curly per usual. He grabs a pair of sunglasses to push his fringe out of his face, and then leaves._

_The last thing he sees before he closes the door is Niall shaking his head and then slipping his hand into Zayn’s. Hopefully the Aussie boys can fuck that memory out of him._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM! Surprise chapter!
> 
> Honestly, I'm doing this because my birthday is tomorrow, and this is my birthday gift to my readers. Hope you enjoy it.

“What are you still doing here?” Harry grunts when Niall shakes him awake. It looks like the sun is up past the clouds, so it must have been a few hours that he’s been out this time. His head still hurts where he hit it on the floor, but the nausea has subsided at least.

“Someone has to wake you up every few hours when you have a concussion.” Niall says quietly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like punching you in the fucking jaw.” Harry mutters. He tries to sit up, but his back screams in protest, making Harry scream as well. “God fucking damn it!”

“What’s wrong?” Niall asks worriedly. “Is it your head?”

“My– My scars.” Harry chokes out. “I can’t sleep on my back– because they tighten everything up. I only sleep– on my side – so I can curl it. Otherwise this happens.”

“I’m so sorry, Haz. I didn’t know.” Niall whimpers. “I was only-”

“Shut up!” Harry snaps, lying back and trying to curl onto his side as best as he can. “I know that you didn’t know. I can safely blame you for a lot of shite, but not this. Just shut up and leave me alone.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Niall asks carefully, ignoring Harry’s order.

“Depends. Are you asking about my back, or forgiveness?” Harry spits out venomously. He wipes furiously at his eyes to get rid of the tears that are leaking out from the pain of trying to stretch back out the skin that his scars have stiffened. “If it’s forgiveness, then absolutely not. If it’s my back, you can help me into the tub. I usually use a hot water bottle and a Vicodin, but a hot bath will be better.”

“Can you stand up, or do you need me to carry you?” Niall asks.

“I’d crush you.” Harry scoffs. “Just help me walk.”

“I carried you to the bed just fine.” Niall huffs. “I can carry you if you need it, Haz. Don’t hurt yourself over this row.”

“This is not just a row, Niall!” Harry growls. “This isn’t the two of us fighting because you cheated at snooker! You destroyed something important to me because you were having a tantrum! Now, you can either help me walk, or you can leave.”

“I did not cheat at snooker!” Niall hisses. “You just suck at it!”

“I am going to kill you.” Harry mutters.

“Good luck with that.” Niall snorts, tucking himself under Harry’s arm and lifting him up out of the bed. “You sure you don’t want me to carry you?”

“I would literally rather crawl.” Harry grunts.

“Aw, don’t be that way, pet.” Niall hums, gripping Harry firmly around the hip as they start to walk. “I wouldn’t drop you.”

“Get off of me.” Harry huffs. “I’ll do this myself.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Niall mumbles. “I’ll behave.”

“Since when do you know how to behave?” Harry scoffs as they reach the bathroom. “You’ve been making trouble for me since day one.”

“Trouble you willingly participated in.” Niall counters with a smirk, sitting Harry on the toilet. “Stay there. I’ll run the bath. You want it just shy of boiling, per usual?”

“Not quite.” Harry sighs. “That’ll irritate the scar tissue further. Hot, but not too hot, please.”

“How do you heat the hot water bottle when this happens?” Niall asks.

“I heat the water on the stove, and then pour it in.” Harry explains.

“Doesn’t it hurt to do all that in your condition?” Niall questions, turning on the tap.

“Hurts more not to.” Harry shrugs, wincing at the stretch of the skin.

“Why don’t you have a partner out here?” Niall asks. “Or at least get Gemma to help when something like this happens?”

“What part of ‘I like being alone’ don’t you get by now?” Harry huffs. “And I’d never call Gemma for this sort of thing. She doesn’t deserve to have to look after me after what I did. I can bear this on my own. That’s part of my atonement.”

“The only one punishing you, is you, pet.” Niall says gently, swirling his hand around in the water.

“I’m the only one willing to admit that I’m at fault.” Harry mutters. “Everyone keeps saying it was just a mistake, but it wasn’t. Mistakes are dropping a glass or sending an email to the wrong person or bringing a customer the wrong beer. Killing my parents because I was drunk and angry and depressed isn’t a mistake. It’s murder.”

“Murder implies intent, pet.” Niall says softly. “Did you ever mean to hurt anyone?”

“Arguing the semantics of murder and manslaughter isn’t going to change the fact that my parents are dead because of a decision I made, Niall.” Harry sighs. “You don’t get it. You can’t. Your mistake was bringing him onto the boat, but you did everything you could to rectify it. You tried, and I didn’t. I ignored the help I was being offered, and I killed them with that choice.”

“And do you think they’d want this for you?” Niall returns. “Do you think they’d want you punishing yourself for the rest of your life for a bad decision? Because I knew them pretty damn well, and I don’t think they would. I think they’d want more for you than all this pain and anger and loneliness.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Harry says with a shake of his head. “What they would want doesn’t matter, Niall. They’re dead. They don’t want anything anymore.”

“And what about you, pet?” Niall asks, kneeling down in front of him. “What do you want?”

“I want things to go back to the way they were before you came back.” Harry tells him. “I want to go back to the comfort of never seeing you again, because I knew how to survive in that world. I want to not remember that night, and to still have my journals, and for my constants to still be constant.”

“What are these ‘constants’?” Niall questions. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned them.”

“I– My life, before you came back, was always the same. The same things always, always happened, and nothing changed. They’re my reality. They’re the patterns in my life that keep repeating and repeating and repeating. They keep me focused and steady.” Harry explains.

“Oh.” Niall says simply.

“That’s it?” Harry asks. “You’re not going to say I have a disorder or something? That I’ve gone completely mental?”

“Do you think you’ve gone mental?” Niall asks.

“No, but I wouldn’t think that I had if I had, would I?” Harry points out.

“I think that you’ve been secluded for so long you’ve started giving more important meanings to everyday occurrences than they actually have.” Niall says softly. “But that doesn’t mean that you’ve gone mental, pet. Everybody has routines and things that happen to them so much that it’s just an ingrained part of their life. But when you lock yourself away like you have, when you keep out the entire world, those things become something special. They become bigger parts of your life than they would if you had something to distract you from them.”

“Do you really think so?” Harry asks.

“I do.” Niall nods. “Let me check the temperature, and we’ll get you out of those clothes and into the bath.”

“Let me just-” Harry mumbles, grabbing an elastic off of the counter and reaching up to tie back his hair, only to find it all held down by a thick band of cotton wound around his head. “Did you fucking bandage my head?”

“Um, yeah.” Niall nods, swirling his hand through the water and shutting it off before adding, “The website that I went to wasn’t very helpful about how to treat a concussion if you don’t have access to a hospital, so-”

“Website?” Harry asks.

“I brought the laptop down after you passed out so that I could run the lighthouse and take care of you at the same time.” Niall admits. “I used it to check out what I should do.”

“And it told you to bandage my head?” Harry questions.

“Well, you always see them do it in movies and such, so-” Niall trails off.

“So you based your treatment plan on the Three Stooges.” Harry finishes for him.

“I panicked, alright?” Niall says defensively. “You were hurt, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just did the first thing that came to mind. It might have been stupid and pointless, but I was doing my best.”

“Just for future reference, you use bandages for open wounds, or to cover sutures.” Harry tells him, tugging off the gauze and tape crown that Niall had made. “All this really did was fuck up my hair.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Niall mutters.

Harry gathers his hair up and puts it into a ponytail, the burning in his back making it impossible to do anything more elaborate than that. Normally he’d prefer a bun if he’s going to be lying down in the tub, but he doesn’t have the energy to care anymore. It is, quite literally, the least of his problems.

“You ready to get in?” Niall asks.

“I can handle it from here.” Harry tells him, trying to push himself up, only to choke out a sob from the pain before falling back onto the toilet. “Fuck!”

“Will you stop trying to do that?” Niall sighs. “You can take the bloody help, Harry.”

“I can do it myself!” Harry growls out, forcing himself onto his feet despite the way his back screams in protest of every movement. “I don’t need any fucking help! Especially not from you!”

“Fine.” Niall scoffs. “Go ahead then. Let’s see you do it all by yourself.”

“Get out.” Harry orders.

“Absolutely not.” Niall says adamantly. “Because, when you fall flat on your face, you need someone to catch you. The last thing you need is another concussion.”

“It would be preferable to dealing with you.” Harry mutters, tugging his jumper off over his head. 

It hurts like all hell, makes his back roar with fury, but he manages with a straight face. That’s as far as he gets though. His head starts to spin, and, suddenly, the top half of his body feels much heavier than the bottom. He stumbles forward, but he can’t regain his balance before he starts to fall.

Niall catches him with a murmured, “You’re such a stubborn arse.”

“Let go of me.” Harry pleads weakly, trying to push back from Niall’s chest. Their eyes are locked, and Harry feels like he’s being peeled away, layer by layer.

“Not gonna happen.” Niall breathes out. “Now, are you going to let me help without fighting it, or do we have to keep doing this? I’ll keep catching you as many times as you need me to, but it’s going to get tiring for both of us.”

Harry doesn’t answer with words, just sighs and nods. Niall maneuvers them so that Harry is leaning against his chest, and then slowly slides Harry’s joggers and pants off.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it, pet?” Niall hums. “Your head isn’t cracked on the floor, and your dignity is still intact.”

“You can’t say that when your hand is on my bare arse.” Harry huffs.

“It’s your hip, pet.” Niall laughs, stroking his thumb along the line of Harry’s pelvis just to prove his point. “Let’s get you in the bath and help get rid of that stiffness, yeah?”

“Don’t phrase it like that.” Harry says with a roll of his eyes, letting Niall shift him back upright. “You dirty minded fuck.”

“I was only talking about your scars.” Niall smirks. “If you took it somewhere randy, that’s on you.”

“You’ve been a pervert since we were kids.” Harry scoffs.

“You have too.” Niall counters. “You told me half the filthy jokes in my repertoire.”

“Shut up.” Harry huffs.

“You started it.” Niall hums. “Leg up. That’s it. I’ve got you, pet. I won’t let you fall.”

He helps Harry into the tub, and then eases him down into the water until he’s laid back. The water is verging on too hot, but Niall seems to have walked right up to that line and stopped there. The effect isn’t immediate, but the pain does start to eke out of him slowly, and his back relaxes enough to let him settle against the tub and close his eyes.

“I’m fine. You can go now.” Harry tells Niall.

“I’ve got the radio with me in case anything happens, but I’m staying here.” Niall says, taking a seat on the toilet. “You’re going to hear me out. I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen. Then, afterwards, if you still want me to leave, I’ll hike to Gemma’s and you’ll never have to see me again if you don’t want to. But I have been waiting two years to have this conversation, and it’s going to fucking happen.”

“No!” Harry growls. “You don’t get to do this when I’m immobile and naked! You don’t get to do this at all! Not after what you did!”

“What I did isn’t what you think, Harry.” Niall sighs. “Things got fucked up, and they didn’t go to plan. I never meant to hurt you. I’m in love with you, and I can’t leave without explaining why I did what I did.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Okay, fuck– That– That wasn’t how I was supposed to do that.” Niall groans, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Been planning this for two fucking years, and it comes out like that. Way to fucking go, you knob!”

He keeps rambling, muttering to himself and tugging on his hair and just generally acting mental. Harry isn’t paying attention though. Not really. His lungs stopped working at those five words. He stopped breathing and his heart stopped beating and his brain filled with static. The water is hot, but he feels like he’s been submerged in ice so far down he’ll never make his way back up to the surface.

He’s drowning. He’s fucking drowning in this, and he doesn’t know how to get back to the air.

“Harry!” Niall says sharply, cutting through the haze enough to make Harry’s eyes refocus. He’s kneeling next to the tub now, his eyebrows crinkled in concern and his hands holding Harry’s face. And his hands feel like ice, but maybe it’s because Harry’s face is hot, because Niall doesn’t look very cold at all. “Harry! Are you okay?”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but water spills out and splatters onto his chest, and he begins to understand. When he blanked out he must have slipped under the water. He isn’t choking on it, so he really must not have been breathing, which is a plus, he supposes.

“Fucking hell!” Niall hisses, taking Harry’s chin into one hand while he reaches for a towel with the other. “I knew I shouldn’t put you in the bath with a concussion! I’m such a fucking idiot!”

“I’m fine.” Harry mutters, jerking his chin out of Niall’s grasp and curling in on himself. He gets his hands around his waist and pulls his knees up to his chest to bury his face in them. “Stop worrying about me.”

“You haven’t given me a reason to stop worrying!” Niall snaps. “You either just tried to drown yourself, or your concussion disoriented you to the point where you didn’t realize what was happening!”

“It was you!” Harry scoffs. “It wasn’t suicide or the bloody concussion! It’s you! I blanked out because I can’t fucking deal with you and all your lies and the constant bullshit!”

“What lies?” Niall asks harshly. “I never lie to you, Harry. Not ever. We’ve both kept our share of secrets, but we never lie to each other.”

“Well, I refuse to believe what you told me.” Harry mutters.

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” Niall says quietly. “This isn’t how I planned this, Harry, but I’ve been waiting so long to talk to you about this, and that night, and everything else. Please, just give me a chance to explain myself. I know I can’t make things right, but I need to explain why I did what I did.”

“And you think right fucking now is the time for this conversation?” Harry asks. “Right now? Really?”

“Well, you can’t run off or try to hit me from there.” Niall points out. “I figured this was my best chance to talk without you being able to stop me or throw me out before I can say what I need to say.”

“I don’t care what you have to say.” Harry says through a mirthless laugh. “The really fucked up thing is, I would have. If you had said it yesterday, or the day before, or any time in the last five and a half fucking years, I would have been so happy. I don’t care anymore though. I don’t care, because I remember the truth, and that’s that you did lie to me, Niall. You promised me that we could talk about us, and then you left.”

“Please, just let me explain myself.” Niall begs in a whisper.

“Not right now.” Harry sighs. “Let me finish soaking my back, and maybe then we can talk. You don’t get to do this to me right now.”

“But you’ll let me talk?” Niall asks weakly. “You’ll let me explain myself?”

“Maybe.” is all Harry gives him.

“Alright.” Niall says with a small nod.

“Go. I’ll be out when I’m ready.” Harry tells him.

“Call me if you need anything.” Niall says quietly, standing up and walking out the door.

Harry sighs in relief once he’s alone, his fingers finally relinquishing their grip on his hips and his body uncurling until he’s reclining fully with his head resting on the lip and his eyes slip closed. The water isn’t quite as hot as it was ten minutes ago, but he’s only now actually beginning to lose the tension that’s got him coiled like a spring, and the only thing that’s letting that happen is that he might have told Niall that he could talk, but that doesn’t mean that Harry’s going to listen.

 

_“Harry?” Liam asks dazedly, blinking the early morning light out of his eyes. He looks like he’s just woken up, which is unsurprising, really. Harry had expected that when he started pounding on their door when the sun is barely up yet._

_“Did he tell you?” Harry asks weakly. “Did he tell you where he’s going?”_

_“What? Where who’s going?” Liam groans, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. “Why are you almost naked? Is this one of those weird sex dreams? Why am I having a sex dream about you? Why do I know it’s a dream? If I have sex with you in a dream when I know it’s a dream, is it cheating? Why am I even considering-”_

_And, really, Harry can only take so much. He’s already well past his limit from everything that’s hit him so far this morning, and Liam’s stream of inane questions aren’t helping anything. Still, Harry probably shouldn’t have slapped him like that, hard enough to leave a bright, angry welt streaked across his face in the shape of five fingers._

_“What the-” Liam starts._

_“Liam, focus!” Harry hisses to cut him off. “Did he come to you last night or this morning? Did he tell you where he’s going?”_

_“Harry you aren’t making any sense. Start at the beginning.” Liam orders, taking Harry’s face between his hands._

_“Ni– Niall’s gone!” Harry chokes out, staggering forward and burying his face in Liam’s neck, sobbing so hard he relies on Liam’s arms wrapping around him to keep him upright. “Liam, he’s gone! Please tell me you know where he is! You have to tell me if you know! Even if he made you promise not to!”_

_“Come inside, green eyes.” Liam murmurs, lifting Harry back upright. “People are going to be out and about soon, and neither of us need them seeing me hugging you practically naked on my doorstep.”_

_“I don’t care about that.” Harry mutters, even as he stumbles along while Liam leads him inside through the pub and up the steps that lead to him and Louis’ flat. “Does this mean you know where Niall went?”_

_“No, I don’t.” Liam sighs. “I’d tell you if I did. You know that.”_

_“Li, who was at the– Harry, why are you all but naked in my husband’s arms?” Louis asks._

_“This is so not the time, Lou.” Liam sighs._

_“Well, he’s on our doorstep at arse o’clock in nothing but his pants and a sock!” Louis hisses. “What am I supposed to-”_

_“Niall’s gone.” Harry tells him. “He took the Derby Ram, and all of his most important possessions, and left a note on my door because he didn’t want to say goodbye to me in person. Did he tell you where he was going?”_

_“He what?” Louis asks with wide eyes. “That little shit! He didn’t even give notice!”_

_“Louis!” Liam barks at him. “Not the time!”_

_“He was supposed to start shifts again next week after Harry went back to school!” Louis huffs._

_“I need to leave.” Harry mutters, rage flaring up in his gut at Louis’ words. “I need to see if he told anyone where he was going.”_

_“You need clothes.” Liam points out. “Come on. You can borrow mine.”_

_“I will hit him if I stay here for another second.” Harry tells Liam, no trace of hesitance or exaggeration in his voice. “Niall is gone, and all he cares about is covering shifts!”_

_“Well excuse me if I’m thinking about my business.” Louis scoffs._

_“Go downstairs, green eyes.” Liam says softly, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “I’ll be down with clothes for you in a minute, and we’ll talk. Two heads are better than one. Maybe we can figure out where he’s going, or if he told anyone.”_

_That’s fair. Harry does need clothes, and someone with a level head, and maybe a second to breathe before he heads back out to try to track down someone, anyone, who might know where Niall sailed off to. So he follows Liam’s instructions, turns on his heel and walks back down to the Rover to sit in a booth and wait._

_The leather of the seats is cold against his thighs and back, makes his skin prickle and stand in little bumps, but it’s grounding in a way. At least he can feel something. He’s been numb since he read Niall’s note. He knows his knees are scraped to hell from the fall to the dock, and his bare foot is scuffed up from the pavement, and his palms are oozing just a bit of blood from where his fingernails anchored themselves into his skin. He didn’t feel any of them at the time, still can barely feel the pain he knows will come later when his body has become accustomed to the anguish that’s spread over his entire being, but he’s actually aware now that his body is reflecting a portion of the pain in his heart._

_“We should get you cleaned up.” Louis says quietly, showing up out of nowhere while Harry is too lost in his own head. “Bandage those hands of yours before they get infected. Your parents will throw a fit if their perfect doctor son can’t actually be a doctor because his hands fell off.”_

_“What are you doing here?” Harry asks harshly. “It was supposed to be Liam.”_

_“I wanted to apologize.” Louis sighs, setting down some of Liam’s clothes in front of Harry on the table. “I, uh– I wasn’t at my best up there. I shouldn’t have said any of the things I said. My mouth gets the better of me more often than not. You know that, Harry. You know that I didn’t mean the things I said up there.”_

_“Then you shouldn’t have said them!” Harry snaps. “I have enough to deal with, without you acting like a complete wanker!”_

_“I know.” Louis mumbles, sliding into the booth. “It’s just – It’s hard for me not to hate you sometimes, okay? I love you, but I hate you too.”_

_“I so don’t have time for this right now.” Harry scoffs, standing up and grabbing Liam’s jeans. “Finding out what happened to Niall is so much more important than whatever your problem with me is. If Liam isn’t coming, then I need to go.”_

_“You’re going to sit here and talk to me.” Louis demands, no room for argument in his voice. “I know something that you don’t, and if you want to know what that is, then you’ll stay and hear me out.”_

_“Talk fast.” Harry huffs, shrugging on Liam’s jumper. “Why do you hate me?”_

_“I don’t.” Louis says gently. “I don’t actually hate you, Harry. I love you so much. You’re like my little brother. You just– You have everything, you know? It’s so hard not to be envious of you for everything you have. Your life is so fucking perfect, and sometimes it makes me want to rip my own hair out by the roots._

_“Everything comes so easy for you. You have a loving family who supports you and is proud of you for who you are, and mine kicked me out for falling in love with a boy. You get to go to a super prestigious university, and I have to bust my arse keeping up a business at twenty-two because I’ll be on the streets if I don’t. Every day I panic over money, but you’re rich. Hell, you even get to look like that on top of everything else. So I get jealous sometimes, and I try to suppress it, but when I see you practically nude in my husband’s arms, it makes me say stupid shite I don’t mean.”_

_“There is nothing between Liam and I!” Harry groans. “There never has been, and never will be, more to our relationship than something like siblings!”_

_“I know that, but-” Louis starts._

_“And let me tell you the truth about my so called ‘perfect life’!” Harry hisses, cutting him off. “I don’t have ‘proud, supportive parents’! I have parents who are ashamed of me! I am the fuck up of our family! I am the one they have to cover up for whenever I make mistakes, which happens all the fucking time! I’m the one who got arrested at fifteen for underage drinking! I’m the one who crashed three separate cars in a year when I got my license! I’m the one who had to switch boarding schools at sixteen because I was caught having it off with two other boys at the same time in the locker room! They may not care that I like boys as well as girls, Louis, but they sure as hell aren’t proud of me!_

_“I didn’t ask to be born attractive, didn’t ask to be born to a father who owns half the land and real estate in the county, but I’m damned lucky I was. Nothing comes easily to me like you think. I’m struggling in every class for a program that I don’t even want to be in, but my parents forced me into, because being a writer isn’t the appropriate path for someone whose father’s social calendar includes half of the nobility in Britain, which, by the way, is the only reason I even got into that ‘super prestigious university’. Being a writer isn’t good enough for my family, but they don’t want me anywhere near the family business either, because they know I’ll fuck it up. Just like everything else._

_“And, on top of the rest of that shite, my best friend, who I’ve been in love with for over three years, took off in the middle of the night with a three sentence note, because he didn’t want to see my face, and I have no idea why. My life is far from perfect, Louis. I know that you’ve had things hard, and that I’m lucky enough to be privileged, but you can’t blame me for that. You can’t blame me for being born, and you certainly can’t accuse me of having this perfect life just because of it.”_

_“You’re in love with Niall?” Louis asks, his eyebrows shooting up._

_“Since we were seventeen.” Harry admits. “But, instead of getting anything I want, I had to sit there in silence while he dated a fucking dick, because I was too scared to tell him, and he never even noticed me. My life’s not perfect, Louis. It’s not been hard in the same ways that yours has, but it’s so far from perfect.”_

_“Oh, Harry.” Louis says softly, coming around the booth to sling an arm over Harry’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”_

_“I basically didn’t tell anyone.” Harry sighs. “Only Gemma and Liam, and– And two really close friends in London. Gemma forced it out of me when she got me drunk last year, and I told Liam at the beginning of summer, because holding it in was starting to make me break down. And apparently Zayn figured it out on his own, but he doesn’t know for sure, because I didn’t tell him.”_

_“You know you’re like my brother, right?” Louis asks, pulling Harry into a hug. “I lost all my siblings when Liam and I were forced out, but, when I moved here, you and Niall became like my little brothers. You could have told me.”_

_“I didn’t like admitting it.” Harry mutters. “The more people that knew, the higher chance he could find out, and I was scared to lose him if he ever did.”_

_“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you two would have been great together.” Louis hums. “Even if it would have been a bit incestuous, since you’re my little brothers and all that.”_

_“Shut up.” Harry huffs. “You said that you know something I don’t?”_

_“Shite.” Louis sighs. “Okay, you have to promise not to be mad at me. I didn’t know he was serious.”_

_“Serious about what, Louis?” Harry asks._

_Louis ducks away and throws up his hands before saying, “The night of the wake, he told me that he’d been thinking about taking the Ram and going out to sea to find some peace for a while. After that, he laughed it off and said it was just a joke. I swear, I would have told you if I thought he was serious, Harry.”_

_“Oh my god.” Harry breathes out. “Did he say where he was going? When he’d be back?”_

_“No.” Louis says, shaking his head. “I don’t think he really meant to say anything to me about it at all. He just asked if I’d ever thought about running and leaving it all behind. If all the pain and the fear and the doubt ever got to be too much, and I’d ever thought about disappearing until it wasn’t too much to handle anymore. He said he’d thought about getting on his father’s boat and just going away until he could make sense of everything._

_“I think that’s what he’s done. I think he needs time and space to get his head on straight after everything that’s happened. Quitting school to take care of his father, Bobby dying, Zayn leaving him like that– He’s fighting on too many fronts in too many wars, and he needs to free himself of everything in order to get past those.”_

_“But I could have helped him!” Harry says desperately. “I was trying to! I would do anything to help him!”_

_“I know.” Louis whispers, taking Harry into his arms when he falls forward and petting his hair. “I know, Harry. So does he. He has to do this alone though. You can’t fight this battle for him.”_

_“But he always fought mine for me.” Harry whimpers, burying himself in Louis’ embrace._

_He needs someone, anyone, to hold him together. Louis squeezes him from one side, and Liam comes down a while later and takes up residence on the other. And he’s grateful, so grateful, because he’s pretty sure he’s going to fall apart completely once they let go._


	15. Chapter 15

Harry doesn’t get out until the water turns cold enough to make his entire body shiver, until he knows he can’t realistically put this off any longer. His back has long since released the tightness that was crippling him, and he needs to get out before he makes himself sick. All he’s eaten in the last two days is a couple of scones, and his concussion is making everything feel heavy. He needs to move. He needs to eat and rest and recover, and he can’t do that when he’s hiding in the bathtub like a small child.

So he gets out and towels himself off slowly, taking what little bit of comfort he can in lengthening the amount of time until he has to confront Niall. He’s weak and his body aches and he’s more emotionally exhausted than he ever has been before. He doesn’t want to do this now, because he’s not sure he even has the energy to be properly angry anymore, and Niall doesn’t get to be forgiven just because Harry can’t rally himself enough to be pissed off.

He slips into the clothes that Niall must have brought in and set by the sink while Harry was too caught up in his head to notice, and he hates, hates, hates how they’re exactly the ones he wants to wear. They’re the comfy pair of joggers that Harry used to laze around the flat in when he was hungover, and the loose-knit, heavy jumper that Niall always packed him into when he was sick. It’s still the kit that he wears on his worst days, because they always make him feel a little bit better, make the darkness pull back just a little bit more than he can manage on his own.

He’s met with something he really doesn’t expect when he finally exits the bathroom. Niall is sat on the bed with his back resting against the headboard, his hands working expertly at restringing the old, wooden piece. Amanda is curled up on his feet, blinking sleepily at Harry before she lays her head back down.

“We came to an understanding when you passed out.” Niall chuckles, scratching her behind the ears before going back to his work on the guitar. “You let this thing go to shit.”

“I don’t even know how it got here. I got rid of everything from the flat except my clothes and books when I moved out. Left it all on the street for people to take.” Harry mutters. “Louis or Liam or Gemma must have snuck it in when I was still adjusting after the accident. Pretty sure Louis and Liam have your stuff in storage. They were the only ones who thought you’d come back.”

“It was in the storage room.” Niall tells him. “You know, the one that’s supposed to be a bedroom?”

“The only working radiator is out here.” Harry shrugs. “That room gets too cold. Why were you in there? Haven’t you violated my privacy enough already?”

“I was just looking for an umbrella.” Niall sighs, pointing over by the door where he’s propped one up. “The dryer I stay, the better. There’s a sandwich on the table for you, if you feel up to eating. I’d have heated up some of the scones for you, but I kind of stress-ate all of them.”

“There were twenty-one left when I left this cottage yesterday morning.” Harry says with a roll of his eyes.

“I know, and my stomach is incredibly angry about me eating all of them since then.” Niall mumbles. “Feel like I’m going to explode.”

“You might.” Harry says, sitting down at the table. “The, uh– The bathroom is free if you need to use it.”

“I’m fine.” Niall chuckles. “How’s your back and head?”

“Better.” Harry says quietly. “Just give me a chance to eat, and then you can say your piece.”

“Alright.” Niall nods. 

A mixture of relief and distress crosses over his face before he turns back to the guitar. Harry can tell that he’s just as torn about this, torn between wanting to jump in, and wanting to put it off for as long as he can. The thing is, Harry doesn’t feel any sympathy for him. Niall has put this off for two years already. If he wasn’t ready to do this, then he shouldn’t have come. They’d both be better off if he had never come back.

It’s not like Harry wants to do this. He’d give anything to turn back time and go back to before Niall showed up again. Back to before his journals were ruined and he knew the truth about that night and his secrets were all laid bare. Back to when he was alone. Things were better then.

Niall starts tuning the guitar while Harry eats, and must deem it acceptable, because he slips into some quiet, slow tune that tickles at the back of Harry’s head with a kind of unfamiliar familiarity. It’s like seeing the face of someone you know you’ve met, but you don’t remember who they are. It’s nice, though, so Harry doesn’t say anything.

“Are, um– Are you experiencing any other symptoms from the concussion?” Niall asks quietly, still playing the melody.

“Just the headache, and I think that’s mostly from smacking my head.” Harry admits. “It’s the kind of pain you get from a bad bruise, you know?”

“Had a few in my day.” Niall nods. “Still got one on my head from hitting it on the hot water heater. It’s right under the hairline.”

“A head injury would certainly explain some of the things you’ve said and done.” Harry mutters, scraping his crumbs into the sink and rinsing off his plate.

“It’s not a head injury.” Niall huffs. “That’s not why I said I’m in love with you, Harry. You said you’d let me explain.”

“Go ahead, then.” Harry scoffs. “Get it over with so I can be done. I need to be done with this, Niall. Forever. It’s been almost six years, and I need this to finally be over.”

“It’s been two years, Harry.” Niall says softly. “Are you sure that you’re alright?”

“It’s been two years since that night, Niall.” Harry snaps. “It’s been over five and a half that I’ve been holding onto you, though. At least, it’s been that long that I was holding onto you in the way that I have been.”

“Bullshit.” Niall scoffs. “You were too busy fucking anyone with legs to be in love with me back then. You never even noticed me like that in those days.”

“I was fucking anyone with legs because you were with Zayn!” Harry spits out. “I needed something– anything– to distract me from you being in love with someone else!”

“I didn’t get with Zayn until a year before that night, Harry!” Niall growls. “You’d been fucking around for a lot longer than that!”

“I didn’t want to be in love with you.” Harry breathes out. The words are so soft that he can barely hear them himself, but they wind him more than yelling ever has. “I was terrified of it. I just– I wanted it to stop, because I knew it would ruin what we had.

“You were the only person who really knew me, Niall. You were the one who taught me how to stand on my own two feet when I was scared of my own shadow. You were the only person who I could count on, so I hid it. When I realized that I was in love with you, I buried it as deep as I could, tried to fuck away my feelings with anyone who wanted a piece of me, because I didn’t want to risk losing you. I couldn’t. Not for that. Not for feeling more for you than you did for me.”

“You didn’t.” Niall says quietly. “Five and a half years, right? For me, it’s been over seven.”

“No.” Harry whispers. “No, you were with Zayn. You loved him.”

“Because I got over you.” Niall admits. It feels like a bullet in the stomach. It hurts worse than almost anything Harry has ever felt. The only thing that compares is having killed his parents. 

“Stop.” Harry breathes out. “Just stop. Please, stop.”

“I got over you, Harry.” Niall repeats, continuing mercilessly despite Harry’s pleading. He crosses over from the bed and stands in front of Harry before adding, “I realized that I was holding out for something that wasn’t going to happen, and I moved on. Or– I thought I did. Then you said what you said that night, that you were in love with me, and everything started rushing back in.”

“Stop.” Harry whimpers, digging his fingers into his hips.

“I had every intention of being there in the morning, Harry.” Niall whispers. “I did. I meant to keep that promise when I made it.”

“Niall– Stop.” Harry chokes out, backing into the corner of the counter until Niall is penning him in with nowhere left to go.

“I wasn’t ready, though.” Niall tells him. “There was too much other stuff to deal with. I wanted to be with you so, so, so badly, but we couldn’t. Not then. Not when I was dealing with so much. Not when I couldn’t be sure that you weren’t just trying to comfort me like you had been doing, or that I wasn’t just reaching out for anything to hold onto. I needed to make sure my head was on straight so that we could finally have a chance to be an ‘us’.

“I had to leave, or anything we had would be tainted. I wanted you to be it for me, Harry. I wanted forever with you, and that could never happen if we’d gotten together then. If I’d stayed, we would have fallen apart, and I couldn’t let that happen. I had to be free from everything that was weighing on me to give the two of us a real shot. I was coming back. New York was the last stop I was going to make, and then I was going to turn the Ram around and come back.

“But then everything happened with Bressie, and I couldn’t come back. I knew you’d never forgive me if I came back with a husband, and he just wouldn’t let go of the marriage. The fight we had that day– the day that he died– it was about you. I told him I couldn’t keep doing what we were doing. I wanted to come back here and be with the man I was in love with, and I was done waiting for him to realize that he and I would never, ever work out.

“And then he died. He died, and I fell apart so much that I almost went to prison, because the last thing I ever said to him was that I could never love him the way I loved you, and I felt guilty. When I was acquitted, I was so depressed that it took weeks before I could even speak. My mum took me in, and I did my physical therapy and saw a therapist who helped me work through my guilt and anger and depression, and helped me realize I had something worth trying to get back to. You. I could still try and make things right with you. Bressie’s death didn’t have to be the end of the line for me.

“So as soon as I was strong enough that I could get on the boat and work everything, I said goodbye, and I came back here. I just wanted a few days to prepare, and then I was going to find you and tell you everything. I didn’t know you were still here though. I didn’t know about the accident.”

“Niall-” Harry sighs. “You never even tried to contact me. It’s been two years without a word. How am I supposed to believe any of this when you never even tried?”

“I called.” Niall says firmly. “Three days after I left, I made port in Dublin, and I called you. I called you whenever I made port anywhere. I called you on my sat-phone whenever I’d think of you at night. I called you from the hospital, and the morgue, and the police station. The number had been disconnected though. I tried over and over and over, but no call ever went through, no matter what phone I called from.”

“My mobile– It– It was broken in the accident.” Harry admits. “And when I woke up, I never got a new one. I wanted to hide, and I made sure the only one with the number to the cottage phone was Gemma.”

“I wrote to you, too.” Niall murmurs. “I wrote so many fucking letters, Harry. I sent them to the flat in London because I thought that’s where you’d be. I never dreamed that you’d be here.”

“Gemma sold it for me.” Harry sighs. “I dropped out of uni, so there was no reason to keep the place.”

“I need you to know that I tried, Harry.” Niall whispers, pressing tight against him and cupping his cheek. “I tried, but everything got so messed up. I never wanted to hurt you. I swear to you that I didn’t. I was trying to make it so that we could be together. I did the best I could.”

“It wasn’t good enough.” Harry breathes out.

“I know.” Niall says breathlessly. “I’m sorry. I just needed you to understand before I could leave. I needed you to know that I love you, and I would never purposely do all of this to you. I made a mistake leaving that night without talking to you. I– I still think going was the right choice, but I should have told you why I had to first. I was too much of a coward to do it face to face, and that’s the biggest mistake I ever made. I hurt you, and I hate myself for that. I’m sorry, Haz.”

“Sorry just isn’t enough, Niall.” Harry mutters, blinking back tears.

“I know that too.” Niall nods, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “Goodbye, Haz.”

He gives Harry’s arm a squeeze and then turns away and heads for the door, only stopping to grab the umbrella he’d taken out of storage. And, the thing is, as bad as waking up to find Niall gone was, watching him go is ten times worse. Watching him walk away, and knowing for a fact that he’s not coming back this time, is so painful it drives Harry to his knees.

So he chokes out, “I don’t know if I can forgive you for everything, but I know I won’t be able to forgive you if you go again.”

“Harry, what are you saying?” Niall asks. “I– I don’t want to misinterpret that.”

“Stay.” Harry whispers. “Please stay this time.”


	16. Chapter 16

“What do you want, Harry?” Niall asks quietly. “Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you if I can, but I need to know what it is first. I need to know what you want from me.”

“I want time.” Harry breathes out. “I need it. I can’t dive right into anything, but, if you walk away now, I don’t think I can ever gather up the courage again to say that I want to try with you.”

“We don’t have to jump into anything.” Niall says softly, dropping the umbrella. “We can take this as slow as you need to.”

“I don’t know if anything will come from this.” Harry tells him. “We aren’t the same people we were then. I’m not the same. You need to really understand that, Niall. You’re not going to like everything you see, if anything.”

“I’m not the same either, Harry.” Niall says quietly, taking a seat on the floor next to him. “I have really bad days sometimes. Days where I can’t get out of bed, days where I get truly fucking furious about every little thing, days where I burst into tears at literally the tiniest provocation. What happened with the journals– That’s just what it’s like in my head some days. Sometimes I can’t control myself at all, even when I know that I’m making a mistake.”

“Oh look, something else we share now.” Harry scoffs. “Impulse control issues to match our crippling guilt and confrontational tendencies.”

“To be fair, neither of us was particularly reserved before all this.” Niall chuckles, nudging Harry with his knee. “You didn’t get kicked out of four boarding schools because you knew how to behave, and I didn’t get fired from every job I ever had except the Rover because I’m an expert at turning the other cheek.”

“Did you work while you were gone?” Harry asks.

“Had to do something to keep food on the boat.” Niall nods. “Bobby left me the boat, and his watch, and not much else. It’s not like he had much in the way of money. Most of the time, fishing was enough to keep the pantry stocked and the boat fueled, but I found work here and there when it wasn’t. Bress and I– Never mind. Sorry.”

“Will you tell me about him?” Harry asks.

“Do you want me to?” Niall asks.

“Not– Not right now.” Harry admits. “Later, maybe. Think I’ve had enough to take in for a while.”

“That’s fair.” Niall says gently. “Do you want to go back to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Not yet.” Harry says, shaking his head. “I should try to stay awake, or I’ll fuck up my sleep schedule.”

“I think that’s the least of your worries.” Niall scoffs. “If you’re tired, you should rest.”

“You need to sleep too, and someone needs to work.” Harry points out. “I’ll be fine. You should sleep.”

“Or, here’s a crazy idea-” Niall hums, scooting closer. “We could just put the radio next to the bed, and both sleep. It’s what we did that first night.”

“Are you still a light sleeper?” Harry asks. “Light enough to wake up if it goes off?”

“You kind of have to be, if you’re going to live on a boat.” Niall smirks. “Too many risk factors involved with sleeping at sea if you sleep like a rock.”

“I– I can’t have another death on my conscience, Niall. Two is enough.” Harry sighs.

“Trust me on this, pet.” Niall says softly. “I know that’s not easy, but I’m asking you to try anyways.”

“It’s going to take time.” Harry mumbles. “I used to have such blind fucking faith in you, and that backfired on me really badly. I can’t just get all of that back in one conversation, Niall.”

“I’m not asking for blind faith.” Niall murmurs. “I’m just asking that you trust me on this one thing, and we’ll build from there. I know better than to think that’s going to be a simple as asking for it, though. If you can’t do that yet, then trust yourself. You wouldn’t risk working out here alone if you didn’t wake up to the radio, yeah?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Harry admits. “You’re right. But I haven’t exactly been a light sleeper the last few times I’ve fallen asleep. I’m worried that I might sleep through it because of the concussion.”

“Alright.” Niall sighs. “Stay up if you have to, then. Wake me up in a few hours, and then you can sleep, and we’ll trade off until we’re properly rested, I guess.”

“Okay.” Harry nods. “Go ahead. You need it.”

“You’re not wrong.” Niall says sleepily, pushing himself up off of the ground. “Don’t be a hero, though. When you get tired, wake me up. Doesn’t matter how long it’s been, I’ll be fine to take over. I’ve done more on less sleep.”

“I will.” Harry agrees.

Niall shuffles off to the bed, and Harry stands up to take a seat at the desk where Niall set the computer. It doesn’t take long before Niall has placed Harry’s guitar back in the case and stripped out of the pair of joggers and the jumper that he’d stolen from Harry’s drawer, leaving him in just a pair of Harry’s boxer-briefs and a t-shirt. He crawls into bed, and starts snoring almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. He didn’t even bother getting under the blanket, so Harry knows he made the right choice in letting Niall sleep first, even though he’s feeling exhausted himself.

Fighting his drowsiness doesn’t get any easier as the minutes tick by, either. He can’t think about writing without getting angry about the journals. He can’t pull focus from his thoughts enough to read anything. He doesn’t trust himself to bake with a concussion, too afraid that he’ll have another dizzy spell when Niall isn’t around to catch him. It’s not the first time that he’s regretted not having a telly out here, not that it would do him any good with a storm like this going on. Reception out here is spotty at the best of times.

And, the thing is, he wants to trust Niall. He doesn’t, but he wants to. It’s almost instinctual to put his bets on the blond. So he turns the radio’s volume up to maximum, sheds his own joggers, and then crawls into the bed beside Niall in a leap of faith. He fits himself along the blond’s back and drapes a hand over his waist.

Niall’s fingers slide between his a moment later, and he mumbles out, “That’s better, pet.”

“Shut up and sleep.” Harry says quietly, burying his face in the back of Niall’s shoulder and letting himself drift off once Niall tangles their legs together with a soft laugh.

 

_“I said get away from me!” Harry roars, lashing out with the arm that isn’t held tight to his chest by the sling and knocking over the food tray. Louis yelps and jumps back like it’s a venomous snake, rather than a bit of plastic that didn’t even fucking land anywhere near him. “I don’t want anyone to fucking touch me!”_

_“Harry, stop!” Gemma pleads through a sob, backed up in the opposite corner of the room. “Please stop!”_

_“All of you need to just get the fuck out!” Harry yells. “I’m not going!”_

_“Everyone out.” Liam commands, gripping Louis by the shoulder when the shorter man looks like he’s about to lunge for Harry. Harry wishes he fucking would. He wishes that somebody, anybody, would just hit him. That they would lay into him with everything he deserves until he’s finally wiped from the face of the planet, as is justified. “You can’t be late. Just go.”_

_Gemma practically sprints out of the room, tears streaming down her face, but Louis only leaves when Liam shoves him out._

_“I meant you too, Liam.” Harry mutters, climbing back into the bed and pulling the blanket up to his eyes. “Leave. You can’t make me do this.”_

_“No, I can’t.” Liam says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “And I wouldn’t try to. Last time I tried forcing something with you, I realized how big of a mistake it is.”_

_“Then why are you still here?” Harry asks._

_“Because, if you’re not going, then I’m not either.” Liam says simply. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”_

_“Why aren’t you trying to make me go?” Harry questions._

_“Because it’s not right to force you into this.” Liam answers. “I hope you’ll change your mind, but I won’t force this on you. That wouldn’t help anyone, least of all you.”_

_“Gemma says she’ll never forgive me if I don’t go.” Harry mumbles. “She says that I have to say goodbye.”_

_“She can’t decide what’s right for you, and what isn’t, green eyes.” Liam says softly. “She also doesn’t mean that. She’ll understand. It might take time, but she’ll come around.”_

_“How can I say goodbye to them when I’m the reason they’re gone, Liam?” Harry asks, fisting his fingers in the sheets and casting his eyes down, because he can’t stand the earnestness in Liam’s gaze. “I have no right to try and find peace after what I did. I don’t get to fall down on their graves and say I’m sorry when the reason that they can’t tell me if they forgive me or not is because of a decision that I made.”_

_“They’d forgive you, Harry.” Liam says firmly. “I know they’re gone, but I knew your parents very well, and I know that they’d forgive you for this. They loved you more than anything in the world, and they wouldn’t want you to keep suffering because of one mistake.”_

_“Don’t you get it, Liam?” Harry spits out, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m the fucking mistake! I’m the one that should have died! They mattered! They helped people! They were good fucking people! I’m not! I should be the one getting buried right now, because I’ve never been any fucking good to anybody!”_

_Liam doesn’t respond with words. Instead he tugs the blanket out of Harry’s grasp and pulls him into a tight hug. Harry struggles against it at first, tries to push away and spit angry words, which only makes Liam hold him tighter. Somewhere along the way, struggling turns to clinging, and curses turn into sobs. Liam’s grip never falters as Harry tires himself out from crying on his shoulder._

_“You’re good to me.” Liam murmurs, holding Harry just a bit closer when he finally begins to speak. “You make my life better just by being in it. I know that none of us can understand how you’re feeling, Harry, but I need you to know that I love you so much, no matter what. You’re my brother, my family, and nothing in the world will ever stop me from loving you.”_

_“I– I miss them– so much.” Harry chokes out. “I just want my mum to hold me and tell me that everything will be okay, but she can’t. She can’t because I killed her!”_

_“It’s not your fault.” Liam whispers. “It was just a mistake, Harry.”_

_“Are we too late to go to the funeral?” Harry asks after a few more minutes of Liam holding him fiercely, stroking his back and petting his hair and murmuring kind words that they both know that Harry doesn’t deserve, but that he needs anyways._

_“We’ve probably missed the ceremony, but we can get to the cemetery in time for the entombment if you rush a bit putting on your suit.” Liam tells him after looking at his watch._

_“I– I might need your help.” Harry says quietly, motioning with his broken arm._

_“That’s fine.” Liam nods. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed.”_

_It takes longer than it usually would, Liam being extra careful because Harry can’t help but cry when the shirt rubs against the scars on his back and chest. It hurts so fucking bad, but he keeps making Liam continue. Liam has to tie his shoes for him and put Harry’s arm back in the sling and brush his hair into something that doesn’t resemble a bird’s nest anymore, but they eventually get out of the house._

_When they pull up to the cemetery, Harry stops Liam before he gets out of the car and says, “Wait. There’s something else I have to do first.”_

_“What do you-” Liam starts, only to gasp when Harry reaches up and removes the bandage covering the scar on his throat. “Harry, what are you doing? The doctor said those need to stay covered until they’re fully healed, or they’ll be worse, if they even heal properly at all.”_

_“I can’t keep them on for this.” Harry says quietly, grabbing at the bottom of the one that covers the scar streaked over his face. “I can’t hide these during this. Too many of them are covered up already.”_

_He pulls it off, choking back a sob at how raw they feel in the open air. The chill claws at them viciously, and it takes everything that Harry has in him not to cry at the pain. He doesn’t though. He’s not allowed to cry when this is his fault. He’s not allowed to get to feel better. That’s not why he came. He’s here to face up to what he did, not run from it anymore._

_“Let’s go.” he breathes out, grabbing at the handle and climbing out of the car._

_Harry’s sure that hundreds of people attended the church service that he and Liam missed, villagers and business associates and friends all showing up to pay their final respects, but only about two dozen have been invited for the interment. Only the closest family and friends get to show up for this, and Harry feels like neither at the moment._

_Liam rounds the car and slips his hand into Harry’s as they approach the family mausoleum where Harry’s parents are being entombed. It’s enough to get him to keep moving his feet, enough to keep him standing, but he wishes it were Niall. He wishes that his best friend were the one helping him right now, because he is Harry’s strength. But he’s gone now, and Harry is back to being that scared, angry little boy he was before Niall came into his life. Scared and scarred. It fits somehow._

_Gemma is speaking when Liam and Harry walk in, and everything just kind of stops for a moment. Every head in the place turns to the two of them, and most of the people gasp. Harry isn’t sure if it’s his presence or his scars that get the reaction until several people turn away._

_His grandmother, his mum’s mum, is seated closest to the entrance, and she gets up out of her chair. Harry doesn’t like a lot of people, especially didn’t as a kid, but he likes her. She’s always been kind like Anne was, always been gentle with Harry and never pushed him into things that made him uncomfortable like his father’s side of the family. So, when she spits in his face, he doesn’t see it coming. He doesn’t see the hand that leaves a stinging imprint on his cheek either, too shocked by what’s happened to even try and defend himself._

_“It should have been you!” she hisses, eyes glimmering with tears. “It shouldn’t be my daughter in there! Didn’t she suffer enough just having to put up with a cowardly shit like you for a son?”_

_Louis jumps out of his chair and lunges for Harry’s grandmother, but Liam rushes forward and catches him before he can get there. Gemma bursting into tears again is the last thing Harry sees before he turns on his heel and sprints out of the mausoleum._

_Liam drove them, so Harry just keeps running. He runs through the pain in his heart and the agony from his scars and the biting, frigid cold of the wind until he can’t run anymore. He runs until he’s collapsing on his knees in front of the door to the flat he and Niall shared. There’s no one to let him in, but there’s also nobody to stop him when he wraps his tie around his good hand (he doesn’t need any more scars than he already has) and breaks the glass of a window in the door to let himself in. He owns the place now. He owns half the fucking county, along with Gemma._

_He heads straight for his bedroom, only pausing to grab the signed cricket bat that Niall had mounted on the wall in the hallway. Every swing of it is a relief, destroying lamps and trinkets and picture frames. He takes it to the furniture, watching drawers break and knobs fly off until the bat splinters and cracks, leaving him with nothing more than the handle. That’s okay, though. That’s okay, because it was just a starting point. Harry doesn’t need any helping breaking things. That much is obvious from what remains of his life._

_He grabs his guitar by the neck and swings it up over his head to smash it on the ground, but strong, wiry arms wrap around him from behind before he can bring it down, and he chokes out, “Niall?”_

_“It’s me, Harry.” Louis says softly, shattering Harry’s hope like he, himself, had done to everything he could reach with the bat. “You need to stop.”_

_The guitar is taken out of his hand, and Liam sets it back in the stand before saying, “You’re going to hurt yourself.”_

_“So?” Harry scoffs. “Who fucking cares?”_

_“We care.” Louis murmurs, tightening his grip around Harry’s chest. And, God, does that fucking hurt. “We care, Harry.”_

_“Well, you shouldn’t.” Harry mutters, grabbing Louis’ wrist with his hand and pulling until he breaks his grip. “I don’t.”_

_“You’re going to get through this, green eyes.” Liam says gently._

_And, in this moment, Harry hates him. He hates that Liam can stand there and say shit like that. He hates that Liam has so much faith, because Harry has nothing left inside of him but anger and rage and hate and fear and guilt. Hope feels like a foreign concept, and Liam just keeps trying to pump it in and in and in, but Harry’s body can’t take it. It’s rejecting it like a bad organ. Like a bad heart._

_“Take whatever you want from here.” Harry sighs, going to his closet and grabbing a suitcase. “Tomorrow I’m having everything set out on the street, but you two should have first pick. The telly was a Christmas gift from my mother, so it’s pretty good. You guys should take that, for the bar at least, if not your flat.”_

_“Where are you going?” Liam asks as Harry begins picking up as many books as he can manage with his one good arm to shove in the suitcase._

_“I’m moving into the lighthouse cottage.” Harry tells him. “My parents were trying to find a new person to crew it with the town council, but I’ll just do it myself. I’ll save everyone from having to put up with me for any longer.”_


	17. Chapter 17

Harry wakes to the soft press of something against his cheek, fluttering and light and warm. For most people, that would be a nice way to wake up, but Harry lives alone, so it’s quite startling instead. He lurches up with a yelp, and nearly bites through his damn tongue when his forehead collides with something hard.

There’s a second yowl of pain that comes from someone other than Harry, and his eyes shoot open as his brain reorients himself to the current situation. Niall is here, currently gripping his own forehead and wincing. Niall is here, and Harry asked him to stay. He asked Niall to stay.

“Well, that’s a bloody nice way to say good morning!” Niall hisses, rubbing at his forehead.

“What were you doing?” Harry asks, bringing his finger up to his cheek to rub at where the warmth of Niall’s touch is still lingering.

“I, uh– You were crying.” Niall mumbles, suddenly blushing a deep scarlet. “You were crying in your sleep.”

“Did I wake you up?” Harry sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been up for a while.” Niall says, his flush kicking up another notch. “I just– I didn’t want to see tear stains on your cheeks. I was getting rid of the tears.”

“Then why are you so– Oh.” Harry breathes out as the realization of why Niall is embarrassed dawns on him. “You weren’t using your finger, were you?”

“No.” Niall groans, covering his face with his hands. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have. I just– I don’t know.”

“It’s fine, Niall.” Harry says, ducking his head to hide a light blush of his own. Because it’s cute in a way, that Niall was kissing away his tears. Mildly strange, but cute nonetheless. “But– Maybe the next time one of us kisses the other, we could both be conscious and sober for it.”

“Conscious and sober sounds good.” Niall nods, climbing out of the bed. “I’ll just go– I don’t know– Fuck off until that isn’t so embarrassing anymore.”

“There’s not exactly a lot of places for you to go in this cottage.” Harry points out.

“I’m going to see what I can do about the broken radiator in the bedroom.” Niall tells him. “This room could have less of a claustrophobic feel to it if you actually used that one.”

“You lived on a boat, and you’re calling my cottage ‘claustrophobic’?” Harry scoffs.

“That’s exactly my point.” Niall hums, grabbing Harry’s tool belt off of the floor by the closet where the water heater is stored. It’s just like him to leave things lying about where anyone can trip on them and die, but Harry can’t really find it in him to care. Not when there’s something so oddly arousing about Niall clad in his clothes with a tool belt slung around his hips. “Living on land has certain advantages. Living space is one of them. This place feels more cramped than the Ram did.”

“And what makes you think I’ll move into that room even if you fix the radiator?” Harry questions. “How many times do I have to say that I’m satisfied with my life the way it is?”

“I didn’t say that you had to move in there.” Niall shrugs, grabbing a wrench out of the belt and spinning it around on his finger. “You could stay out here if you want. But you could use that room as a lot more than storage. Like a library, or a writing room, or even just a workout area so you don’t have to keep all of that out here. I’m just giving you options. Besides, I don’t like leaving something broken when it can be fixed.”

“Is– Is that what you want with me?” Harry asks weakly, pulling his legs to his chest. “To fix me?”

“You don’t need to be fixed, pet.” Niall murmurs, crossing back over to the bed. “I don’t want to change you, Harry. If you’re happy with who you are, then I’ll support that. And if you want to change things, then I’ll support that too. Who you are isn’t for anyone except you to decide.”

“Why can’t the others see that?” Harry sighs, burying his face in his knees.

“They just want what’s best for you, pet.” Niall says softly, combing his fingers through the bit of hair that had fallen loose in Harry’s sleep. “They lost someone in that accident too. And before you say it, I don’t mean your parents. I mean that they lost you. And they think that if they try hard enough, they can get you back to who you were before. They don’t understand how something like this changes someone. They don’t understand that you can’t be the same person you were before.

“But you also haven’t made that any easier on them, pet. I’m not saying you’re wrong for wanting to live your life the way that you do. I swear that I’m not. I’m just saying that they want to be a part of your life, and you keep pushing them away. That’s just going to make them fight harder. People are like that.”

“You certainly are.” Harry says, turning to rest his cheek on his knee so he can look at Niall. “You’ve always been a bit on the relentless side, though. I used to think it was bold and assertive. Now I’ve realized that you’re actually stubborn and a bit annoying.”

“Don’t forget sexy.” Niall hums, sauntering off towards the bedroom with an exaggerated sway to his hips. He turns back when he reaches the door, catching Harry staring, and gives him a wink that makes his blush flare up again. He disappears into the room after adding, “I knew you thought so.”

 

“You look proper bored out of your mind, pet.” Niall chuckles from the doorway.

“Everybody should have found port by this point in the storm.” Harry points out. “I still have to keep watch, though. There’s always the odd chance that someone could be out there.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to spend the whole time just staring at the screen. It’s a bit morbid, honestly.” Niall says with a soft smile. “Looks a little like you’re hoping for somebody to be out there.”

“I’m not.” Harry huffs. “I just– I don’t have much else to do. I’ve read every book I own at least three times, and I’m trying not to think about the journals, because I’m still mad at you for that.”

“I, um– Here.” Niall says quietly, walking back into the bedroom and returning a moment later with a box. “I saved as much as I could after I got you into the bed. I had burned a lot of the pages, and all of these are torn up, but I did what I could. I’m so sorry, Harry. I know that’s not enough, but I want you to know how much I regret doing this.”

“Nobody got hurt.” Harry says, shaking his head.

“You did.” Niall whispers. “You got hurt, in more ways than one, and I’m the one who did it. I never should have lost control. Especially not with you.”

“Less than a week ago, I grabbed Liam by the throat, slammed him into that wall right there, and then threw him out into the dirt so hard that he rolled when he hit the ground.” Harry says quietly. “I know all about letting your demons get the better of you. I’m still mad, like I said, but I’m working through it. 

“I don’t want to be mad at you anymore. I’ve been holding onto so much anger towards you for so long, and I just want to let go of it. I can’t keep holding onto it. So I’m trying to fold the journals into the rest of it so I can let it all go once I figure out how. It’s going to take me some time, because I’ve been so mad for so long that I don’t know what will happen if I stop. I don’t know what’ll be left inside if I let it go, and that scares me more than anything ever has before.”

“You don’t have to be afraid, pet.” Niall says softly, kneeling down next to the desk. “I can’t tell you for sure what’ll be left, because we’re different people, but I can tell you what was left when I learned to let go.”

“What was it?” Harry asks.

“Hope.” Niall murmurs, resting his hand on top of Harry’s. “Hope for the future. Hope for us. Hope that my life didn’t end when Bressie’s did. And, hope is scary, in a way. It makes you cling onto something without a guarantee that it’s even possible. I didn’t know what would happen when I came back. I didn’t know if you’d have found someone else, or if you’d ever even want to see me again, but I had hope that that night wasn’t the end of the line. I still don’t know if that hope is going to lead anywhere, but it feels a hell of a lot better than all the anger I was clinging to.”

“I don’t think I’m brave enough for hope.” Harry whispers, hating himself for not being able to say the words any louder. “I’m a coward, remember?”

“There’s a difference between being afraid and being a coward.” Niall tells him. “Cowardice is letting your fear control you. I’ve seen you be afraid of a lot of things, but I’ve never seen you be a coward. Not ever.”

“What do you call what I’ve been doing for the last two years?” Harry asks.

“Coping.” Niall answers. “In a very short period of time, your entire life turned upside down, and you had to find a new way to live. You carved a life for yourself out of the chaos. That’s brave.”

“You’ve got to stop doing that.” Harry mumbles. “Otherwise I won’t believe you’ve really changed at all, and I need you to have changed.”

“Stop doing what, and why?” Niall questions.

“Finding the silver lining in everything.” Harry says softly. “You always used to do that. No matter how bad anything was, you found some way to say it was a little better. Sometimes things are exactly as bad as they look, and I need to know you can see that.”

“Why?” Niall asks again.

“Because there’s no silver lining with me, Niall.” Harry admits. “I’m exactly as bad as I look. Literally. And– And you fell in love with the old me, but that’s not me anymore. That’s not me, and there’s no silver lining, and if you keep looking for one, then I’m afraid there isn’t any hope for us.”

“But you’re wrong, pet.” Niall murmurs. “There is a silver lining.”

“What?” Harry scoffs. “Have you gone and developed a scar kink or something?”

“No, that’s not it.” Niall hums. “The silver lining is that I get to fall in love with you all over again.”

 

“Am I allowed to come out yet?” Harry groans at the door.

“No! Just enjoy your bath!” Niall laughs.

“It’s been an hour and a half!” Harry calls to him. “If I stay in here any longer, you’ll be able to bake me into a scone! And two baths in a day is excessive!”

“You need to learn to relax.” Niall says, popping his head in the door. “The first bath was to get rid of the stiffness in your scars. This one is just for you to luxuriate.”

“What the hell is going on with you?” Harry sighs. “First you pack me in here and tell me I can’t come out until you tell me that I can, and then I hear a bunch of loud noises coming from all over the place in the cottage, and at one point you definitely started cursing in Gaelic. Are you having another breakdown or something?”

“Just give me five minutes, yeah?” Niall asks with a grin so bright it’s almost blinding. “Then you can come out, and I’ll explain everything.”

“You are so fucking weird today.” Harry scoffs, shaking his head. Niall responds with a pout that only gets harder to ignore by the second until Harry throws his wrinkled hands into the air over his head and says, “Fine! I’ll give you five more minutes, but you can’t blame me if you come back here and only find a raisin floating in the water.”

“Raisins are dehydrated. Pretty sure I’d find a grape if that were the case.” Niall giggles, retreating when Harry throws a withering glare at him with a laugh of, “Five minutes!”

And, well, it’s already been ninety minutes. Five more won’t make any difference. It’s not like Harry can possibly get any more bored than he already is, and, thankfully, boredom cannot actually be a cause of death. He’s a bit worried about absorbing all of the water in the tub and becoming a bloated mess, but he’s pretty sure it won’t happen unless Niall goes back on his assurance of only needing five more minutes.

It turns out he doesn’t go back on it, and, indeed, lets Harry know when five minutes have passed by knocking on the door and telling him, “Time’s up. Quit soaking your lazy arse and get out here.”

Harry mutters curses under his breath as he drains the tub and climbs out. He knows that Niall is just joking, but he hasn’t really got any idea what’s going on anymore, and it’s nerve wracking. He’s just winging it at this point, which is terrifying after over two years of living by his constants. 

Niall says he doesn’t want to change Harry, and Harry believes that he means that, but the simple fact of the matter is that Niall changes things just by being around. He interrupts the stream of constants, throws a wrench in Harry’s processes, and the fear of what that could do in the long run is making Harry’s teeth grind and his back tighten up and his head ache. It’s making him irritable and scared and snappish.

But Niall has ways of throwing wrenches in those processes too, it seems. He’s very accurate with metaphorical throwing wrenches.

“What’s all this then?” Harry asks when he exits the bathroom.

“This is a date scraped together in ninety minutes from a half stocked cupboard, and a room full of boxes of shite that other people left behind.” Niall hums, setting two plates on the table. There’s a pair of mismatched candle holders with two different sticks, the lavender in silver and the vanilla in glass, stood up between the plates, which contain heaps of potatoes, and what smells like Niall’s signature pork roast. God, Harry has missed that pork roast. “I think I did pretty well, given the circumstances.”

“A, um– A date?” Harry asks.

“Yes, pet, a date.” Niall chuckles, tucking his fingers into his jeans. His face and voice are as easy-going as they ever are, but Harry recognizes the gesture as Niall’s own personal nervous tick. He’s nervous, and that’s just a little bit of a relief. “I know the concept is a bit foreign to you, considering you’ve never been on one, but it’s what people do when they’re interested in one another.”

“I know that.” Harry huffs, rolling his eyes. “I just– I mean– Why?”

“Why do people go on dates in general? Or why do I want to have a date with you?” Niall asks back. “The answer is the same either way, actually. People do it because they want to get to know the other person. I know who you were before, but, as you’ve pointed out many, many times, you’re different now. I want to get to know you again.”

“You’re not going to like what you see, Niall.” Harry sighs, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“That’s not for you to decide.” Niall returns, stepping into Harry’s space and tilting his face up with two fingers on his chin. “You don’t get to keep putting my favorite person in the world down like that, either.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being bold and assertive, or stubborn and annoying right now.” Harry mumbles.

“Probably a mix of all four.” Niall says with a shrug. “What do you say though, pet? Want to go on a date with me?”

And Niall is good at throwing wrenches and finding silver linings and being brave and annoying and bold and stubborn. He’s sunshine and lightning and the smell of sea salt all captured and put in a bottle. He’s good memories and bad ones, wide smiles and heavy teardrops. Niall is Harry’s favorite book, and the one he simultaneously wants to throw off the top of the lighthouse into the water to watch it sink, sink, sink until it’s gone.

Niall is the opposite of a constant, but that doesn’t stop Harry from immediately saying, “Yes.”


	18. Chapter 18

“So by ‘date’, what you actually meant was ‘truth or dare with a meal involved’?” Harry asks dryly.

“Closer to twenty questions than truth or dare, but without the built-in cap on questions.” Niall smirks. “Truth or dare provides too much temptation to make it naughty. I’ve never been one to avoid naughty, but I think we should probably take this pretty slow.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it naughty anyways.” Harry mutters, picking at his pork roast. “Fine, though. If you’ll be honest, then I will. I want the first question, though.”

“That’s fair.” Niall nods.

“How many people did you sleep with while you were gone?” Harry asks.

“Wow, go big or go home, I guess.” Niall sighs. “There were two guys. One in Dublin, and then Bressie. The guy in Dublin was just a drunk hookup while I was trying to clear everything out of my head. Bressie was– Well, he was my husband. We’d spend all day fighting, and then we’d make up in bed.”

“Okay.” is all Harry can think to say. He knew he shouldn’t have started there, that he didn’t really want to know about who all has gotten to touch Niall, to see him and kiss him and hold him and hear the sounds he makes. He couldn’t help it though. He’s never been able to say that he’s not a jealous person.

“Has there been anyone since me?” Niall asks.

“Two girls in the loo at the Rover on the night of the accident.” Harry admits. “Not at the same time, obviously. It was one after the other. Nobody since the accident though. Nobody wants to have it off with the Phantom of the Lighthouse.”

“First off, you’re wrong. Second, Liam and Louis didn’t murder you for that?” Niall asks disbelievingly.

“Liam threatened me after the first time, and I kind of hit on him after the second, and that’s when he knew I was too drunk to drive.” Harry sighs through Niall choking on his drink.

“You hit on Liam?” Niall squawks once his throat is clear.

“I was drunk.” Harry huffs. “Very, very drunk. And don’t act like you never thought about it. Objectively, he’s fit as all hell. You’ve asked three questions. It’s my turn.”

“Okay, I’ve definitely never thought of Liam that way, but you can ask two in a row, I guess.” Niall grumbles petulantly.

“Oh my god, are you jealous that I said Liam is fit?” Harry scoffs.

“I mean, I know this is just dinner in your cottage, but I meant it when I said I wanted it to be a date.” Niall mumbles. “It’s not exactly great to hear the guy you’re supposed to be on a date with fawn over how hot a guy is who’s basically like your brother.”

“I’m not ‘fawning over how hot he is’.” Harry snorts. “I said that he’s objectively attractive. Since when do you get jealous?”

“I’ve always been jealous when it comes to you.” Niall says quietly. “Always. I was jealous of every single one of your hookups. It used to drive me insane. I think I went through about five hundred stress-balls between the ages of fifteen and twenty.”

“I wondered why you always seemed to be buying those in sets of a dozen.” Harry chuckles. “I thought it was just because you were working so hard for school.”

“School didn’t stress me out half as much as hearing about your exploits, or, worse, walking in on them.” Niall mutters. “That’s two questions. It’s my turn.”

And, Harry hadn’t really meant for those to be his questions, but that’s fair, so he nods and Niall asks, “Why did you move up here? If you wanted to separate yourself from everyone who cared about you, why stay here?”

“Because I don’t get to have a life after I took my parents’.” Harry answers. “Leaving would have been running away from what I did, and I don’t get to do that. I don’t get to put it behind me. At least– That’s what it was about at first. Then I started to like this work. I realized that I was never fit to be a doctor, not that I ever actually wanted to be one, but this job still lets me help people. It lets me do good in the world, even though I’ve put so much bad out there. I help people find their way home.”

“Looks like you aren’t so bad at finding silver linings yourself, pet.” Niall says with a soft smile.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Harry asks as his question.

“What? ‘Pet’?” Niall questions. “It, uh– It’s something you said that night. You said that if you were with someone you loved, you’d want to have something special to call them, something just between the two of you, so that they knew they were yours, and you were theirs.”

“Is that what you want?” Harry asks. “For me to be yours, and for you to be mine?”

“I’m hoping we can get there one day.” Niall nods. “I know it’ll be a while, if we can even get there at all, but it’s what I’ve always wanted. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Harry admits, blushing and looking down at his potatoes. “I, uh– I kind of like it.”

“I know.” Niall smirks. “You’ve had a very physical reaction to it most of the times that I’ve said it. You blush or you shiver or your breath catches. But you can like something, and still want it to stop.”

“Did you?” Harry asks. “That night, did you want what happened to stop?”

“The world could have literally been ending around us, and I wouldn’t have wanted to stop, Harry.” Niall says adamantly. “I know that, from your point of view, it might have seemed like I was just trying to rush through things, or like I was just diving into something to distract myself, but that’s not what happened. I wanted what happened just as much as you did. I just didn’t handle it very well because my head was a mess. Do you feel like you took advantage of me?”

“It’s hard not to.” Harry says quietly. “That night, you – You never said anything about having feelings for me at all. I didn’t realize it at the time, because I was so relieved that you didn’t punch me or yell at me or tell me it was never going to happen, but it definitely feels like you were just reacting to the mess I created when I got smashed and blurted out that I was in love with you. It feels like I pressured you into something that you were nowhere near ready for, at a time when you needed to be thinking about yourself, and not me.”

“Does it help if I tell you that I don’t regret sleeping with you?” Niall asks. “Because I don’t. I don’t regret it one bit.”

“I don’t know.” Harry sighs, shaking his head. “You’ve had two years to process that night. I’ve only had a few hours. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that it even happened. I don’t know how to feel about it. It’s going to take some time for me to sort through all of that. How soon after I fell asleep did you make the decision to leave?”

“It was about an hour.” Niall says quietly. “Once you fell asleep, and I was lying there watching you sleep in my arms, everything hit me. I wanted everything to stay just like it was in that moment, but it couldn’t. I knew that dawn would come eventually, and then you’d wake up, and we’d have to talk everything out. I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready to get into anything, even though it was what I wanted. If we’d tried to make something work right then, then it wouldn’t have panned out. And I was maybe a bit afraid that you’d wake up and tell me that it was all a drunken mistake, and that you didn’t really have feelings for me, but just wanted me to feel better.”

“Did you really think I’d do that? Was I pushing too hard?” Harry asks.

“No.” Niall says with a gentle smile. “You were the only thing keeping me going, actually. I’d have completely fallen apart if you hadn’t tried so hard to keep me together. Do you hate me for leaving?”

“Not anymore.” Harry mumbles. “I did though. Or, at least, I thought I did. I’m not sure I’ve ever been able to properly hate you. I was definitely mad though. I still am, a bit. Like I told you though, I’m trying to move past all of it. I’m tired of anger and bitterness and hate.”

“They’re exhausting.” Niall agrees.

“Okay, my turn, and I need you to be completely honest with this one.” Harry says quietly. “How much do my scars bother you?”

“They don’t.” Niall answers immediately. Harry starts to say something, to call him out on being a fucking liar, but Niall cuts him off with, “They don’t change anything for me, pet. They’re not as bad as you seem to think they are. They might be painful, and remind you of what happened, but they don’t make you into some grotesque monster. Not to me. They’re just one more thing on the list of things that have changed about you, but that doesn’t bother me at all. They don’t bother me. I promise you that. If you believe one thing, believe that I think you’re beautiful.”

“You really have developed a scar kink.” Harry mutters, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t have a scar kink.” Niall snorts. “If I have anything, it’s a ‘you kink’.”

“Wow.” Harry scoffs. “That was not flattering in the slightest.”

“It should be.” Niall hums. “You’d never guess at what you do to me.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that line?” Harry asks flatly. “Literally hundreds.”

“I’m sure I can tell you things that you haven’t heard before, but I’m trying to prove you wrong on whether or not I’ll make this dirty.” Niall smirks. “So you’ll have to wait on those.”

“I’ve literally heard it all.” Harry snorts. “Had people tell me they want to eat my arse like a buffet, and that they want to asphyxiate choking on my cock, and that I look like sin sent specifically to tempt them. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already heard.”

“How about that that night is the only time I’ve ever made love with someone, and that it blows everything I’ve ever had, before or since, out of the water?” Niall asks, looking down at his plate with a blush when Harry’s eyes snap open in surprise. “Like, I know that it didn’t really last long, and that I was kind of an impatient bitch through the whole thing, and that we were both somewhere past sober, but that was the only time I ever really felt special when I was with someone like that. It showed me why people say there’s a difference between sex and making love, or why someone would ever say anything as stupidly soppy as ‘making love’ in the first place.”

“Just imagine if the sex had actually been good.” Harry smiles. “That wasn’t exactly the best display of sexual prowess. I swear I’m better than that in bed.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Niall smirks. “Until then, I have a very important question, and it’s your turn to be completely honest.”

“I have been.” Harry huffs.

“I know, but this is really important to me.” Niall hums. “Now, do you really not wank?”

 

“God, I really missed good cooking.” Harry sighs once the two of them have depleted almost every last scrap of food between them. It’s been so long that the mismatched candles have both burned down to little nubs, but they haven’t stopped talking for the whole time. “I’d almost forgotten that things other than scones and salads can taste good.”

“I’m not sure if you’re actually complimenting me, or if you’ve just gone without really eating for so long that you think it’s better than it actually is.” Niall chuckles. “That’s the first time you’ve eaten a proper meal since I showed up.”

“Well, like I said, I’m not sure how long the storm is going to last, so I didn’t want to run out of food.” Harry mumbles. “I may be a bitch when I miss a hot shower, but you’re worse when you miss a meal.”

“Oh, I know.” Niall laughs. “I can be a real prat when I get hungry. Used to-”

“‘Used to’ what?” Harry asks when Niall cuts himself off and turns his eyes down.

“Used to drive Bress insane.” Niall says quietly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring him up like that.”

“You can mention him, you know.” Harry says gently. “It’s obvious that he was important to you.”

“I’m trying to ease you into things.” Niall sighs. “You said you needed time before I talk about him, so I’m trying to give you that.”

“I do.” Harry nods. “I do need time before I can handle everything about the life the two of you had together, before I can hear about the sex or know if he was in love with you or ask why you still wear the rings, or anything serious like that. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t talk about him at all. It doesn’t mean you have to apologize for saying his name.”

“Alright.” Niall nods.

“I, uh– I’ve been meaning to ask, but I’ve been enjoying the peace, so I kind of forgot, but where’s Amanda?” Harry asks, needing a change of subject.

“Found some catnip toys in storage, so I fed her while I cooked, and then I put her in there so that she didn’t steal our dinner.” Niall chuckles. “Or set herself on fire trying.”

“I guess I should let her out now that the date’s over, shouldn’t I?” Harry asks.

“Who says it’s over?” Niall smirks. “The dinner portion is done, yeah, but that’s not all that I have planned.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think a moonlit stroll is out of the question.” Harry giggles. “That umbrella won’t fit the two of us, and it’s quite cold.”

“Mm, I was thinking something a little cozier.” Niall hums. “Found more than catnip and your guitar in that room.”

“Okay, you realize that if you found lube, it was probably here for Liam to stuff Louis’ arse, yeah?” Harry snorts.

“It’s a first date, pet.” Niall laughs. “And we’re supposed to be taking things slow. It’s going to be quite a few more dates until that happens. Besides, those two left some shite behind, but there’s no way that lube would be one of the things they did. Louis would leave behind his feet before he’d leave behind lube.”

“Good point.” Harry muses. “What do you have planned then?”

“I found these.” Niall says, reaching over to the desk and putting a stack of DVDs on the table.

“You may have noticed that I don’t have a telly.” Harry points out.

“But you do have a laptop.” Niall counters, raising his hand when Harry starts to protest. “And, if you agree, then I’ll let you switch screens over from the film every ten minutes just to check and make sure of what you already know, which is that nobody is out there. As an added bonus, I’ll even let you pick the film, though I’m really hoping you’ll go with ‘Roman Holiday’.”

“Who in their right minds would leave ‘Roman Holiday’ behind?” Harry gasps, grabbing at the stack of DVDs and taking the top one. “It’s one of the best films ever made!”

“Think that might be nostalgia speaking, pet.” Niall hums.

“Nostalgia and taste.” Harry scoffs. “Just because we watched this about a thousand times doesn’t mean it isn’t one of the best films of all time. Whoever left this is an idiot.”

“I think it’s our copy.” Niall says with a soft smile. “I found it in a box that was next to the guitar case. Maybe Liam and Louis snuck it in when they put the guitar here.”

“I don’t think it was them who put it here.” Harry admits. “I think they gave my stuff to Gemma after I left them in the flat, so I’m pretty sure it was her who did it during one of my shopping runs. She’s the only one who knew when I’d be out of the cottage.”

“That makes more sense.” Niall nods along. “It sounds more like a Gemma thing to do than a Liam or Louis thing. Liam would want to talk, and Louis would tie you to a chair and yell at you until you heard what he was saying. What do you say though, pet?”

“Let’s do it.” Harry agrees. “You set it up, and I’ll put the dishes in to soak and get Amanda before she decides to renege on the understanding you two have apparently come to and starts plotting our murders.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Niall grins. “Meet you at the bed in three minutes, pet.”

Harry blushes at that, but nods and grabs their plates. He rushes over to the sink and starts rinsing them off before filling it with water to let them soak through the night. When he gets to the bedroom, he closes the door behind himself and crouches down as Amanda buts her head against his shin.

“How have you been, girl?” Harry asks, scratching at her ear only to receive a lick in return. It’s surprising to say the least, considering her usual mood is somewhere between ‘leave me alone’ and ‘Satan on a bad day’. He chalks it up to the catnip and says, “Things are going really good tonight, for once, so stay in this mood, yeah? There’ll be extra food in it for you tomorrow if you behave yourself.”

And, well, apparently Amanda is ‘that’ kind of cat-stoner, the kind that gets the munchies, because her eyes go wide at the mention of food, and she goes to stand guard at the door. One of the things in the storage room is a floor length mirror, so Harry does a quick check of himself in it to calm his nerves. He’s not sure why, though. He could have an entire wardrobe in here, and enough product to make his hair actually behave itself, but nothing can cover up his scar. There’s no point in trying to look good for Niall when he has this nasty gash streaked across his face. He’s never going to look like he used to.

“Stop looking at it like that.” Niall murmurs, nearly causing Harry to jump out of his skin in surprise.

“Jesus Christ!” Harry groans, grasping at his chest. “Stop doing that!”

“I’ll put on a collar with a bell if that’s what you want, but only if you stop looking at your face like it’s not beautiful.” Niall says softly.

“Kinky.” Harry scoffs.

“Stop that.” Niall sighs, stepping through the maze of boxes until he’s standing in front of Harry. “Don’t push away what I’m saying. I know how much you hate your scar, and I get it, but you have to stop thinking that it’s so bad that it’ll change anything for me. It doesn’t.”

“How can it not?” Harry asks quietly. “All I had going for me was my looks, and now my face is split in half by this thing.”

“There’s so, so, so much more to you than looks, pet.” Niall murmurs. “Personally, I think looks are a bit overrated.”

“You can’t say that when you dated Zayn Malik.” Harry huffs, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t date Zayn because he was pretty.” Niall scoffs. “I dated him because he was kind, and artistic, and smart. He wasn’t all bad, you know. I’m not saying he didn’t have some shitty qualities, because he did, but he was a decent person too. His looks didn’t play a part in why I dated him, and your looks had nothing to do with why I fell in love with you either. Not a damn thing.”

“Look at me and honestly say that you could be okay seeing this face for the rest of your life.” Harry mutters.

“I’d consider it a privilege.” Niall returns instantly. “I told you that the scar doesn’t bother me, and I mean it. And you can call me a lot of things, a coward, selfish, and a bastard– But you can’t call me a liar. I don’t lie to you, and I would definitely never lie about this. When I call you beautiful, it’s because I mean it. I think you’re breathtaking, so please stop thinking that you’re a beast, and just let me adore you without fighting against it at every turn.”

“I’m back to the question of ‘bold and assertive, or stubborn and annoying?’” Harry says with a quiet laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, pet.” Niall smiles. “I don’t want to make you feel guilty for feeling what you feel. I just want you to know that I don’t feel the same way about it as you do.”

“We should go watch that film now.” Harry says with a light blush that he ducks his head to cover. “I’m starting to regret the choice though, nostalgia or no.”

“But it’s our film.” Niall points out.

“Yeah, but it’s about two people falling in love during a whirlwind romance, only to be separated and never see each other again.” Harry breathes out. “I don’t know if that’s how I want to start this out. It hits a little close to home.”

“It’s just a film, pet.” Niall chuckles. “We can pick something else though, if that’s what you want.”

“I just don’t want you getting any ideas, Anya.” Harry chuckles.

“I’m not going anywhere, Joe.” Niall returns. “Though I have to say, you look a lot more like Audrey than I do. And don’t argue on the grounds of ‘the scar’ because I will lose it. I’ll pull a Louis and tie you to a chair while I say it over and over again until you hear me.”

“Again, I have to say, ‘kinky’.” Harry smirks.

“And you thought I’d be the one taking the night to a naughty place.” Niall snorts. “C’mon then, pet. I’m not sure how much longer the supper I made for Amanda is going to keep her occupied, and I’d rather not fight with her for space.”

 

The film is nice, despite the ominous connotations that had worried Harry earlier. He’s got his head on Niall’s chest, and the blond is playing with his hair, which is actually kind of putting him to sleep. And the cottage still smells like a strange mix of lavender and vanilla and spice rub, but Harry likes it. He likes it because tonight has been good, better than he ever expected when he stepped out of the bathroom. It’s not been perfect, because nothing is, really, and they’ve hit a few bumps, but that’s to be expected. They’re learning the ins and outs of one another all over again, and that’s bound to be a bumpy road. It’s bound to be a less-than-calm sea. 

But Harry and Niall have experience with bumpy roads and less-than-calm seas. They’ve already lost people to bumpy roads and less-than-calm seas, and they won’t lose each other to them if they can help it. They won’t make Joe and Anya’s mistake, and they won’t repeat their own. They’ll make mistakes, yeah, that’s a given, but they won’t make the same ones.

“Pet, if you keep drifting off like that, you’re going to miss our favorite part.” Niall murmurs, alerting Harry to the fact that the ‘Mouth of Truth’ scene is nearing the apex. 

And it is Harry’s favorite, never fails to make him smile, but it’s not what’s on his mind right now. No, he has much more important things on his mind than Audrey Hepburn’s genuine shriek of surprise at Gregory Peck’s devious little prank, even though it’s his favorite, and Niall’s too. 

So he’s not surprised when he pauses the film right beforehand, and Niall groans, “I know I said every ten minutes, but did it have to be right then?”

“That’s not why I’ve stopped it.” Harry admits, flipping back to the radar screen and setting the laptop on the desk to plug it in. “I’m sober.”

“Well, yeah. So am I.” Niall laughs. “You haven’t got any alcohol here.”

“Niall, I’m sober and I’m conscious.” Harry says again, a bit more urgently, sitting up so that he and Niall are on the same level now.

“Okay, this concussion of yours is really beginning to worry– Oh!” Niall says breathlessly once he realizes what Harry is telling him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “If you’re good with that.”

“Just want to make sure you’re okay with it.” Niall breathes out, cupping Harry’s cheek with his hand. “I said that we could take it as slow as you need to, because I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. Not even a kiss. So, if you aren’t ready, then-”

And Harry loves that Niall is looking out for him, but it also feels a little condescending. Harry knows his own mind. He knows his own mind, and he knows that he wants to kiss Niall. So he does. He kisses Niall right in the middle of the sentence, cuts him off with a press of lips and tongue and fingers fisted in Niall’s shirt, because he may love that Niall is looking out for him, but Harry can look out for himself.

“Eager.” Niall hums, pressing their foreheads together to create a gap between their lips that Harry actually, factually hates. “There’s no rush, pet. We don’t have to jump into full-on snogging.”

“What if I want to ‘jump into full-on snogging’?” Harry whines.

“Then you’re missing out.” Niall murmurs. “Do you mind if I take the lead for a minute?”

“Not as long as you’ll kiss me again.” Harry acquiesces.

Apparently that’s enough for Niall, because he leans back in until their lips brush. Harry tries to close the rest of the distance, but Niall pulls back just as much, keeping it so the edges of their lips are just barely touching.

“The buildup is an important part of the kiss, pet.” Niall whispers. “The best kisses only start once you feel it sink so deep into your skin that you know you’ll die if it doesn’t happen.”

“You realize that you were the one who was so impatient last time, yeah?” Harry asks with a huff.

“And one of the many things I regret about the way I handled that night is that I didn’t kiss you properly.” Niall murmurs, the slow drag of the edge of his lips against Harry’s feeling like a slow motion bullet. “I want to kiss you so that you feel it for the rest of your life.”

That’s when he finally leans back in, stopping the bullet before it reaches Harry’s heart and knocks him dead. And it’s slow, smooth like warm, drizzled honey in the way that it starts at Harry’s lips, but spreads through him until he can feel every nerve ending lighting up in a way that they never have before.

He lets Niall lead, lets him press Harry back against the pillows and pull the blanket over their heads, never breaking the contact between their lips as he seals them into another world. And Harry has kissed and been kissed by a lot of people, has even kissed and been kissed by Niall, but he’s never felt anything like this before. He’s never felt like he’s floating and flying and falling and sinking and twisting and turning and exploding and collapsing all at once. He’s never felt sparks fly across his skin and fire lick through his veins and starlight twinkle in his chest.

And Harry may know his own mind, but clearly Niall knows kissing, so he doesn’t mind letting Niall take the lead for a minute, and then several, and then many, many more as they kiss until they fall asleep with unspoken promises pressed against each other’s lips.


	19. Chapter 19

_“How was your night with Ashton and Luke?” Niall asks, turning down the radio after an hour of blasting it so hard Harry’s nearly gone deaf from Niall’s method of avoiding any and all conversation. Harry’s not exactly sure what’s been up with him. Niall’s been acting strange all day, but Harry knows better than to push with Niall. You have to let him get to things in his own time. “Any jealousy problems?”_

_“Not really.” Harry answers. “I guess they’ve done this sort of thing before? It’s something they enjoy.”_

_“I’m hardly surprised.” Niall mutters. “Did you have a good time then?”_

_“I did.” Harry admits. “It wasn’t really what I was expecting. Most of the threesomes I’ve been a part of were just all about the sex. Some sucking, some fucking, and then I’m out the door. Things were different with the two of them.”_

_“How so?” Niall asks._

_“They, uh– They spent all night just, like – Worshipping me, I guess.” Harry tries to explain, thankful that his eyes have to be on the road while he drives so that he doesn’t have to meet the gaze he can feel Niall boring into the side of his head. “We never got around to the actual fucking part. Things started with a massage, and that went on for ages until Luke got me off with his hands. Then they insisted on bathing me. I know that sounds weird, but it was actually strangely erotic. Especially when Ashton fingered me until I came again._

_“Then they took me back to the bed, and they had me get up on my knees. Luke got in front of me, and Ashton got behind me, and they both just dry humped me from both sides until I came another time. Then they laid me out and cleaned me up with their tongues that time. After that, Ashton sucked me off while Luke ate me out, and that was that for the night. They never even touched themselves or let me touch them, and, believe me, I tried.”_

_“Wait, so you had a threesome with a couple, and they didn’t even get off?” Niall asks incredulously._

_“They told me it was just a warm up.” Harry says with a shrug. “It was kind of an initiation, I guess? To test out if they thought the three of us were sexually compatible. Next time they want me to fuck both of them, like, one after the other, over and over again.”_

_“Wait, ‘next time’?” Niall asks, sitting bolt upright. “What do you mean ‘next time’? There’s never a ‘next time’. Not with you.”_

_“They gave me an open invitation.” Harry confesses. “They want me to be their third for a while, I guess. I’m actually really considering it. I liked being with them. I liked being taken care of, and they like taking care of me. I found these on our doorstep with my name on the box this morning.”_

_He points to the new pair of Ray Bans he’s got tucked into the front of his shirt, even though it’s well after sunset._

_“It had a note inside that said they really hope I come back, because they really like me.” he adds._

_And Harry could have easily afforded them on his own, but he’s never been given a gift just because someone cares about him. These are special. They could have been some tacky, plastic, heart-shaped ones from a pharmacy, and Harry would be just as proud to have them._

_“So what you’re saying is that they paid you to have sex with them.” Niall scoffs, looking back out the window. “I know you hate your classes, but is prostitution really your fallback career?”_

_“Fuck you!” Harry spits out, pulling over onto the shoulder. “Don’t judge me, Niall! I’m not like you. I’ve never had anybody like me before. Everybody just wants to have it off with me, and then never see me again. I’m not a whore for wanting someone to like me.”_

_“What about this situation sounds like they want more than sex from you, Harry?” Niall asks harshly. “Because, to me, it sounds like they just want a walking, talking marital aid, and they’re willing to buy you a few nice things to keep that up.”_

_“Well that’s more than anyone else has wanted from me.” Harry mutters. “People look at me and all they see is a nice pair of lips with a big sign attached, listing my father’s net worth. They made me feel like I mattered, Niall. They didn’t pack me off right after the tissues hit the bottom of the bin. They didn’t make me feel dirty. They asked me to stay the night, and then had me sleep right between them. They said they like me. Why is it so wrong for me to want that?”_

_“It’s not.” Niall sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m– I’m being a prick, and it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”_

_“Well then, maybe I should drop you off at a bus station and let you get home that way.” Harry grumbles, pulling back onto the road. “I’m trying to do you a fucking favor, and calling me a whore is a pretty shitty ‘thank you’.”_

_“Bobby lied to me.” Niall whispers. “I called the doctor so I’d know what to expect after the biopsy. He said that the surgery isn’t a biopsy, it’s a removal, and it’s not one mass, it’s nine. He said they’re something called ‘mets’ because they’re in a bunch of different places.”_

_“Oh shit.” Harry breathes out._

_“He’s dying, isn’t he?” Niall asks. “You’re pre-med. You have to know what all of that means.”_

_“It means that the cancer has spread out from where it started into other parts of the body.” Harry admits. “‘Mets’ are metastatic tumors. If they’re forming, that means the cancer would probably be in a later stage. The cancer cells would have reached the blood stream and then floated along until they attached somewhere and started growing.”_

_“So he really is dying.” Niall says quietly._

_“Mets are tumors, just like any other.” Harry says gently. “He’ll probably need more than one surgery, if he has that many, and a lot of chemo, but he could pull through.”_

_“Don’t do that.” Niall mutters. “What are his chances, Harry?”_

_“From what I understand, they’re probably low.” Harry says quietly. “But I’m not a doctor yet, Niall. I’m a second year pre-med student. I can’t tell you what his chances are, because I don’t have much training at all.”_

_“I’m dropping out of school.” Niall breathes out. “The doctor said that Bobby is going to need someone around at the very least, to help him get to appointments and keep an eye on him. After the surgery, I’m going back to get my stuff, and then I’m moving back to the village.”_

_“You don’t have to do that.” Harry tells him. “I can hire him a nurse.”_

_“You know Bobby would rather die than let anyone give him charity.” Niall sighs._

_“It’s not charity.” Harry says firmly. “It’s help. Bobby is like family to me. I want to help.”_

_“You can help by not saying anything.” Niall says harshly. “Just– Just leave it alone, Harry. I’ve already made my choice. I’m moving back. Bobby matters more to me than school does. I’ll take care of him myself.”_

_“When next semester ends, I’ll come back too.” Harry decides. “For the summer at least.”_

_It wasn’t what he had planned. He and Niall were going to backpack through Asia, but that’s not an option anymore. The next few months without Niall around are going to be hard enough, but the whole summer on top of that is just out of the question._

_“Zayn is going to come out for the summer.” Niall says quietly. “We were going to find a flat near Bobby’s place so we could be around to help him, but still have space away from him.”_

_“Well then I’ll get the flat next door.” Harry offers. “Or we can get a two bedroom like in London. We’ll work something out. I’m not leaving you alone, Niall. You’re my best friend, and I’m not letting you go through this alone.”_

_“Thank you.” Niall whispers, taking Harry’s hand when it’s offered and clinging tightly to it._

 

Harry’s wake up this time is far less ‘ouch’ inducing than it had been last time as he’s slowly pulled out of sleep by the feeling of somebody playing with his hair. And he almost panics again, almost shoves at the source of the feeling because his first thought is that it’s Amanda, and hairballs just containing her own hair are gross enough without adding Harry’s to the mix. But everything from last night floods back in, and he knows that it’s Niall, which makes a smile stretch his lips before he’s even really conscious.

“Morning, pet.” Niall murmurs.

“Morning-” Harry rasps out, fluttering his eyes open and trying to decide on a pet name for Niall before he reaches out to touch Niall’s hair too, and settles on, “Silver.”

“What the fuck?” Niall yelps, his eyes going wide. He practically knocks Harry out of the bed on his mad dash out of it, definitely pisses off Amanda with the rude wake up, and yells, “Where?”

Harry finds him in front of the mirror, hovering only an inch or two away as he meticulously searches through his hairline.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks.

“If I have a grey hair, I need to know about it!” Niall hisses. “Come show me where you saw it!”

“Oh my god.” Harry snorts, rolling his eyes. “Silver as in ‘silver linings’, not as in ‘silver fox’. I was trying out a pet name. I’ll figure something else out, though, because pet names shouldn’t give you a heart attack.”

“Oh, thank Jesus.” Niall breathes out, dropping his forehead against the mirror. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“You’re twenty-two.” Harry points out. “You’re still a few years off from any grey hairs.”

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t had enough stress for a lifetime.” Niall mutters. “I wouldn’t be entirely surprised to find one, or a couple dozen. Or just wake up some morning looking like my grandad.”

“Your father’s father?” Harry asks. “Could do worse. He was a good looking man.”

“It is too early in both the day, and this, for you to be calling my grandad hot.” Niall snorts.

“Hey, if the orthopaedic shoe fits.” Harry smirks.

“You really do have a thing for older men, don’t you?” Niall asks. “Liam, that couple you had it off with, my grandad– How am I supposed to compete with that?”

“You’ve got four and a half months on me. That’s enough.” Harry says with a shit-eating grin.

“Better be.” Niall huffs. “I don’t want to have to dye my hair white just to satisfy your old-man kink.”

“But you’d look so good with white hair.” Harry pouts. “Proper sexy, that.”

“You are the weirdest man I know.” Niall chuckles, crossing over from the sink. “But you’re a pretty decent snog, so I think I’ll keep you around.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Harry hums. “And I really want to kiss you again, but I think I should probably take care of my morning breath before that.”

“Go ahead.” Niall nods. “I’ve already showered and brushed and done all that.”

“And then you got back into bed just to play with my hair?” Harry asks.

“I like it.” Niall laughs, reaching up to tug at a strand on Harry’s shoulder. “I really like it.”

“Any particular reason?” Harry asks.

“Gives me lots to play with.” Niall muses. “I could mess about with it for hours. Could look up a YouTube tutorial on how to braid or summat, if you want?”

“I-” is all Harry gets out before his phone starts to ring, and his stomach sinks. “Will have to get back to you on that.”

He scrambles over to the phone, picking it up off of the cradle and rushing out, “Gemma? Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Yes, something bloody happened!” Gemma hisses. “It’s been a week since I’ve seen you or heard from you! We have a deal, Harry!”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Gems, but there’s kind of a massive storm going on.” Harry sighs. “I’ve been working.”

“Have you been working so bloody hard that you couldn’t take ten bloody minutes out of your bloody day at some bloody point to bloody call me and bloody let me bloody know that you aren’t bloody dead?” Gemma growls.

“I, uh – Things have been busy up here, Gems.” Harry mumbles. “There’s a lot going on.”

“What’s going on, pet?” Niall asks, walking over with a cup of tea.

“Who the hell was that?” Gemma shrieks so loudly that Harry has to hold the receiver away from his face. “Have you got a boy up there, Harry Edward Styles?”

“Ooh, you got middle named.” Niall snorts.

“Is that Niall?” Gemma questions. “What fucking ‘Twilight Zone’ bullshit did I just step into? Am I about to grow another head? Is Liam going to get Louis pregnant? Is the rain actually vodka? Oh, I hope it’s that one.”

“Gems, I’ve got to go. I’ll come over for our meeting as soon as the storm dies down, alright?” Harry tells her. “I promise. Until then, just stay safe and leave me alone to do my work.”

Harry hangs up after that, but Gemma manages to squeeze in a quick, “Do your boy, you mean.” before he can manage to cut her off.

“Oh my god.” Harry sighs, dropping his head on the desk.

“Why didn’t you tell her about me, Harry?” Niall asks quietly, and Harry hates the way that his stomach drops at the abrupt switch from ‘pet’ back to his name.

“Because I don’t want her driving out here.” Harry mumbles. “And what would I tell her? I don’t know what this is yet. Do you?”

“No.” Niall sighs. “I just– I guess I was hoping you weren’t going to try to hide it.”

“The last time I saw Gemma, I was on the verge of having a panic attack over seeing you again.” Harry mutters. “How am I supposed to explain that, just a week later, I spent all last night snogging you in my bed? That’s not a phone conversation, Ni. I’m not trying to hide this. I’d just like to fully figure out what’s going on between us before I go telling other people about it.”

“Are you going to tell her about it when you go over to the main house?” Niall asks.

“I will.” Harry nods. “And I’m hoping you’ll come with me.”

“Of course, pet.” Niall grins. “Now you go take care of your morning routine. I’ll make us some breakfast, and then we can revisit the ideas I have for your hair.”

 

“Do you miss it?” Harry asks. He’s laid out on his stomach, watching the radar screen for any signs of trouble while Niall is straddled over his back and trying desperately to get a French braid right on his fifteenth attempt.

“Miss what, pet?” Niall asks, sounding frustrated as he shakes out Harry’s hair to start all over. “Fucking damn it! I can crew a forty-five foot ketch by myself, so why is this so hard?”

“Because you’re new at it.” Harry chuckles. “You’ve been on a boat since you were in primary school, but you never had a sister or a girlfriend, so long hair isn’t something you’re experienced with. And I was asking if you miss living at sea.”

“Not really.” Niall admits. “Sometimes I miss being able to walk out on the deck, and look out and see nothing in any direction. I miss the way everything felt open and free and possible. I don’t miss being out there though. I don’t really enjoy it at all anymore. Not since the accident.”

“Do you want to talk to Gemma about open properties when we go over there?” Harry asks.

“Suppose I’ll have to.” Niall sighs. “Being an adult is shite, you know?”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Harry nods.

“Don’t move your bloody head.” Niall huffs, pinching Harry’s shoulder. “This is hard enough without you wiggling all over the place like a bloody bobble-head doll.”

“It’s really bothering you that you can’t get this right, isn’t it?” Harry snorts.

“I don’t like not being able to do things.” Niall mutters. “Especially something that’s supposed to be this easy.”

“It’s not supposed to be easy.” Harry tells him. “It took me three weeks to learn how to do it properly for Gemma when we were young.”

“I’m twenty-two, not ten.” Niall grumbles. “But if you have any suggestions, I’ll hear them out.”

“You should stop playing with my hair and kiss me again.” Harry smirks, turning to look at Niall over his shoulder. “Let my scalp recover from your assaults while I log a bit of snogging practice.”

“Sounds good.” Niall hums, letting loose his grip on Harry’s hair. “But then you’re going to show me how this works.”

“It’s a deal.” Harry giggles as he rolls onto his back and pulls Niall down into a soft kiss.


	20. Chapter 20

“You’re getting much better at that.” Niall chuckles against Harry’s lips and not-at-all discretely adjusting himself. “But I think we should probably eat something before my tongue is too tired to swallow food.”

“I can’t feel my lips.” Harry hums, burying his face in Niall’s neck. “They’re all tingly, like when your foot falls asleep. Is it weird that I like it?”

“You like not being able to feel your lips?” Niall snorts.

“I like that I can’t feel them because of you.” Harry admits in a whisper. “I like that my whole mouth tastes like you. I like that I know what you taste like enough to know the difference.”

“Mm, and how do I taste?” Niall asks, stroking his fingers up and down Harry’s spine.

“Delicious.” Harry murmurs. “A little bit like mint, but there’s something underneath that’s very uniquely you. Think it might be one of my favorite tastes.”

“One of?” Niall asks incredulously.

“Haven’t gotten to taste all of you yet.” Harry whispers in his ear. “Might like the way that the rest of you tastes even more. I’m holding out on a decision until I have all the facts.”

“Well you’ve already tasted quite a bit of me, remember?” Niall laughs.

“I couldn’t taste anything through the whiskey that night.” Harry admits.

“Then we’ll have to remedy that at some point.” Niall says thoughtfully. “But now it’s time for food, or else I’ll start eating your face, and that would be a shame. I like your face. It’s a nice face.”

“Scar kink.” Harry snorts.

“You kink.” Niall returns, opening up his mouth and then biting lightly onto the tip of Harry’s nose.

“Stop eating my face!” Harry squeals, batting at Niall’s chest until the blond catches his hand and tangles their fingers together. “Go make the food. My face is messed up enough without you eating my nose.”

“It’s beautiful.” Niall murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against Harry’s still-tingling lips. “And if you say the words ‘scar kink’ again I will actually eat your face this time. I will go full Dahmer on you.”

“I knew there was a real reason you came back.” Harry giggles. “You’re a secret cannibal who wants to eat me.”

“Definitely.” Niall hums. “Been thinking about eating you for ages.”

“Pervert.” Harry snorts, ducking his head back into Niall’s neck to hide his blush.

“You started it earlier with the whole, ‘haven’t gotten to taste all of you yet’ thing.” Niall scoffs.

“So, we’re either perverts or cannibals.” Harry grins.

“Or perverted cannibals.” Niall laughs.

“Or cannibalistic perverts.” Harry adds.

“Whatever we are, I’m hungry, so I can eat you, or I can make food.” Niall smirks against Harry’s cheek. “Which would you prefer, pet?”

“Food.” Harry decides. “The storm is winding down, and I think it’ll be done tomorrow, so I have to squeeze as many meals out of you as I can get.”

“A right slave driver, you are.” Niall laughs. “Get off of me then. Can’t very well make food with you clinging to me like this.”

“You’re the one holding my hand.” Harry points out.

“Yeah, but I haven’t got the strength to let go.” Niall says dramatically, clinging even tighter to Harry’s fingers. “You’re the strong one with all those big arse muscles. You’re the one who can probably bench press me.”

“And then some.” Harry nods.

“Fuck, why is that so hot?” Niall groans. “Maybe we should just go back to snogging.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Harry snorts. He sits up, dragging Niall with him, and then puts his hands around the blond’s waist to throw him over his shoulder. “Come on. You’re making me food before you give into your perverse, cannibalistic urges. I’ll use my ‘big arse muscles’ to help.”

 

“No, don’t touch that.” Niall huffs, smacking at Harry’s hand with a ladle. “I’ve already had to throw out two things because you touched them.”

“Pretty sure it’s actually because you got distracted snogging me.” Harry snorts, dropping the knife he was using to chop carrots with. “But that’s fine. You can go back to being anal retentive and doing everything yourself. I was tired of being your chop-monkey anyways.”

“Good. You’re a bloody menace.” Niall scoffs. “Those carrots medallions are all chopped in completely different sizes. How do you survive on your own?”

“Believe it or not, perfect knife technique isn’t strictly necessary in order to keep myself alive.” Harry huffs. “Just let me finish this.”

“Pet, you have many, many talents, but you’re a danger to every living being in this cottage with that knife, a burn risk, and a complete and total distraction to me in here.” Niall hums, catching Harry around the waist and pulling him in so that they’re chest to chest. “Because, even though you’re a danger with a knife, and you’ll probably set one of us, or the cat, on fire if I let you near the stove, you’re even cuter than usual when you focus on something. That’s why I’ve been unable to keep myself from snogging you silly every once in a while. For our stomachs’ sakes, you need to find something else to do before I go through every ingredient in the cottage just because I can’t help myself around you.”

“Alright, you’ve made your point.” Harry chuckles. “I’ll give you your space to do your thing, since I’m such a distraction. Just give me another kiss first.”

“Gotta make it quick.” Niall giggles, pulling Harry in by the neck for a soft kiss before he starts shooing him away with a laughed, “Get out of here.”

And Harry doesn’t really have a lot of options as to how he can spend his time, but he decides on something that he hasn’t done since Niall showed up. He decides to work out, and not just because lifting Niall over his shoulder earlier was just slightly more difficult than he thought it would be. It’s the best stress relief he has, and it also helps keep his scars from getting stiff.

The fact that Niall seems to enjoy Harry’s physical fitness is just an added bonus.

What he’s wearing doesn’t really work for exercising though, so he changes out of his comfort clothes and into the ones he normally wears for a workout. The thing is, they’re his workout clothes from before the accident, from before his scars made him grotesque. Normally it isn’t a problem, because nobody is around while he wears them, but that’s not the case this time.

And Niall has seen him naked, helped him strip off his clothes and put him in the bath, but it feels different somehow when Harry is wearing a pair of too-short shorts that don’t cover the gashes on his legs, and a shirt that’s split down the sides so it can’t hide the cuts that litter his torso. He feels even more naked like this. He feels like he’s barer than he was before, because it’s like trying to hide an elephant with your hands, like he’s drawing attention to the scars by trying to cover them up.

But Niall is intently focused on their food at the moment, so Harry relaxes as he starts going into his usual routine. By the time he’s finished stretching, he feels almost at ease, which makes it that much simpler to slide into the real workout. The anxiety slips further and further away as his concentration increases on each press-up and crunch. Planking takes up every bit of his mind’s energy, and the rest of it fades away in the face of the burn. It’s amazing. It’s familiar. It’s exactly what Harry needs in this moment.

He needs it because Niall is good, and the kissing is great, but Harry can already feel himself slipping into something comfortable, and he’s not ready for that yet. He’s working on it, but he isn’t ready to forgive and forget. He isn’t ready to move on from what’s happened between them. He isn’t even sure if he’s capable of having a relationship anymore, let alone with Niall.

It’s not that he doesn’t want this to work, because he does. He’s just so used to being angry and scared that he doesn’t know what to do without those feelings anymore. Niall makes him feel warm inside instead of frozen, makes him feel alive in a way he hasn’t in years, makes him feel like more than a shadow. He just isn’t sure that he actually deserves that. He doesn’t feel like he gets to feel good ever again, doesn’t feel like he gets to be happy.

Niall makes it hard not to feel good though. He’s like a flower growing through a crack in the cement. Harry thought his soul was barren, that he’d burned everything to the ground and salted the earth so that nothing could ever grow there again, but Niall is already taking root like the most stubborn seed there is, and he’s growing faster than Harry could have guessed. The problem is, Harry isn’t sure if he likes that or not.

Before Harry can really start to figure it out, Niall startles him so badly that he falls on his face with a low murmur of, “Pet, if you keep that up, I’m going to need you to head to the lighthouse just so I can wank without being overheard.”

“I forgot you were here for a minute.” Harry groans, rubbing his face and forehead while rolling onto his back.

“Well it was impossible to forget that you’re here with those noises you’re making.” Niall hums, walking over and looking down at Harry from above. “Takes me back, if you know what I mean.”

“Are you saying that I sounded like I was working out when I fucked you?” Harry asks, covering his face with both hands to hide his blush of shame when his voice goes all tight and pitchy.

“No, I’m saying that you sound like you’re fucking me when you work out.” Niall chuckles. “It’s very distracting.”

“Sorry.” Harry sighs.

“Don’t be.” Niall snorts. “Just, uh– How much longer do you think you’re going to need? The food will be done in a few minutes.”

“I’ll just do my cooldown and then jump in the shower for a quick rinse.” Harry mumbles.

“Sorry about making you stop prematurely.” Niall says softly, crouching down so that his face is hovering about two feet above Harry’s. “I’m just a man, though. I can only take so much of you sounding like that before I’m going to need to either get off or run out into the rain for a very intense cold shower.”

“Stop. It can’t be that bad.” Harry huffs.

“Oh, it’s not bad at all.” Niall says with a smirk. “Quite hot, actually. And combined with the way you look while working out, which makes it impossible not to watch you, I think I’m going to explode.”

“Please don’t.” Harry scoffs. “Giving Amanda a taste of human flesh seems like a terrible idea.”

“Oh, thanks.” Niall says with a roll of his eyes. “Nice to know that that’s your biggest problem with me literally exploding.”

“Well, I’d also really hate having to clean the little bits of you off of everything.” Harry grins. “And I’d have to wash pieces of you out of my hair, which would take ages.”

“Ugh, you’re such an arse.” Niall groans. “Can’t believe I’ve fallen for such a wanker.”

“Shut up.” Harry snorts. “You can’t actually blow up from sexual frustration.”

“That’s what you think.” Niall hums. “But you weren’t the one was basically watching a live porn. I was ten seconds from going up like napalm.”

“I was working out.” Harry laughs. “There was nothing pornographic about it.”

“Trust me, pet. I could make millions just selling a video of that.” Niall smirks. “Could upgrade the Ram to a yacht and turn this cottage into a mansion.”

“You severely overestimate the number of people in this world who share your scar kink.” Harry mutters, pushing himself up into a sitting position and then climbing to his feet. “Nobody but you would ever want to see me, and that’s only because you’re insane.”

“I’m not insane.” Niall huffs, catching Harry by the wrist and tugging him around. He pulls Harry in close, wrapping an arm around his back to hold him tight while he brings the other hand up to cup Harry’s cheek and murmur, “You’re beautiful, pet. This doesn’t change that.”

He runs his thumb along the thick, pink line of hardened tissue on Harry’s cheek, making the brunet whimper at the sensitivity. It doesn’t hurt, but instead feels like a thousand electrified pins are racing up his spine. Lots of people have touched his scar, doctors and nurses and Gemma and Liam and Louis and himself, but it’s never felt like this. It’s never made Harry feel like he’s on fire in the very best way. Like he’s alive and burning, burning, _burning_ up with something he’s never felt before. Something that he never even knew existed.

“I’m sure the rest of the world would think so too, which is exactly why I’d never put a video of you out there. Can’t have people coming from all over trying to fight me for your attention.” Niall adds, leaning in so that he’s brushing the words over Harry’s lips with his own like paint on a canvas. It feels like a bloody masterpiece. “Got a bum knee, so I could only take out, like, a hundred of them before I’d need a rest.”

“Just a hundred?” Harry asks breathlessly. “You’d only fight a hundred people for me?”

“I’d fight the whole damn world if I needed to.” Niall whispers. “But the only one fighting me is you, and I don’t know how to make that better.”

“It’s going to take time.” Harry mumbles. “Just– Just don’t run away from me this time. That’s all I need. If you can do that, if you can hold out until I can get there-”

“I’m not going anywhere, pet.” Niall breathes out, and that’s all it takes for Harry to press through the last of the space between them and seal their lips together.

He’s still not sure he deserves to ever be happy again, but, in this moment, he really can’t help himself.

 

“Do you remember when we first met?” Niall asks quietly, murmuring the words into Harry’s neck in the darkness. They’re supposed to be sleeping, supposed to be resting while they have the chance as the storm starts to taper off before finally dying down, hopefully.

Harry can’t sleep though. He can’t sleep because he doesn’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, and that terrifies him. He always knows how every day is going to go. For over two years, he’s known exactly what would or could happen every day. He’s been able to, more or less, predict the future, because it was always the same. Tomorrow’s not going to be the same, though. Tomorrow’s not going to be the same, and Harry is scared, and he can’t sleep, and apparently neither can Niall.

“Of course.” Harry tells him. “The day we met is one of the most important days of my life.”

“How come it wasn’t in the journals?” Niall asks.

“Because I never needed to write about it.” Harry answers. “When– Whenever I wrote things down like that, when it was a memory instead of something that I made up, like a poem or a song or a story, I had a reason. Normally, it was just because I needed to work through it, to process that memory and get it out so I could understand why it was coming to me then and how I felt about it. And sometimes I wrote them down because they showed up in my head, and I’d forgotten about it until then, but I didn’t want to forget about it again. I didn’t have any reason to write about the day we met, because I know why it’s on my mind when it comes up, and I could never, ever forget about it.”

“Why is it on your mind whenever it is, then?” Niall asks.

“Because it was the first time I can remember that I ever really felt truly happy.” Harry admits. “I mean, I’m sure there were times before then that I was happy, but nothing that I can remember that came anywhere close to the way I felt by the time I climbed into bed that night. I don’t think I’d smiled as much in my entire life as I did that night. Gemma made fun of me, because she said it was weird to see me smiling, but I just couldn’t stop.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Niall scoffs. “You were so grumpy that whole first year we were friends, let alone that day. I remember thinking that your face must just have a constant frown on it. I thought it was a medical condition. Permanent scowl disease or something.”

“Yeah, I know.” Harry chuckles. “But then, right before you had to go home, you hugged me really hard and told me that you couldn’t want to hang out again, because we were going to be best mates forever. Nobody had ever wanted to be my friend before. And then I didn’t want to scare you off by being clingy or needy or something, so I just pretended that I wasn’t always smiling because of you whenever I was alone.”

“You were a very strange ten year old.” Niall snorts. “You’re lucky I’m stubborn and that I really wanted you to like me. I refused to give up on trying to make you smile.”

“You did it long before you ever knew.” Harry says softly. “And you’ve done it a lot of times since then.”

“I’ve also been the reason that you haven’t smiled a lot.” Niall sighs.

“I know.” Harry nods. “But you’re also the reason that I’ve felt something other than terrible for the first time in two years. And, it’s still all here, the guilt and the anger and everything else, but there’s something else I haven’t felt in a long time.”

“What’s that?” Niall asks.

“Happy.” Harry breathes out. “It’s not made everything else go away, and I’m not sure it really can, but it’s nice having something warm in my chest now. It’s like– It’s like I’ve been cold in there for so long that I forgot what that feels like for it to feel warm.”

“I think I know what you mean.” Niall murmurs, placing his fingertips against Harry’s chest and curling them in the fabric. “I’ve not felt right in so long, but now– Now it’s like I’m remembering who I am again, because it feels like I’d forgotten. But I’m also different from who I was before. There are stains on my hands from the things that have happened, marks that won’t ever really fade away, and those have changed me, but I feel more right than I ever did at any point in the last two years.”

“Hold onto that feeling.” Harry says softly. “Gemma’s gotten a bit– Well, blunt is an understatement. Tomorrow is likely to be a bit intense.”

“I can handle intense.” Niall whispers, brushing the tip of his nose against Harry’s. “The last few days have been pretty good preparation for that.”

“We really should sleep.” Harry sighs. “Tomorrow is going to be enough without us staying awake all night.”

“True.” Niall nods, leaning in until his lips are edging along Harry’s. “Or we could snog until neither of us remember how to be nervous anymore.”

“I think I like that idea.” Harry murmurs.

It turns out to be an excellent one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next four chapters straight are going to be flashbacks, and they hurt, so you should prepare yourself for that.


	21. Chapter 21

_“What’s wrong, love?” a gravelly voice mumbles into the back of Harry’s neck. “Your whole body feels tense.”_

_“I don’t want today to come.” Harry admits, turning to bury his face in the pillow. He knows that he’s being petulant, that he’s acting like a child who doesn’t want to get up early for church, but that doesn’t stop him. “I just want to turn back time to last night and stay there.”_

_“You don’t have to go anywhere, you know.” the blond murmurs, tugging at Harry’s shoulder until he finally rolls over and meets those blue eyes that have a way of seeing straight through to the truth. “You could stay here. We’d love it if you would.”_

_“I made a promise.” Harry sighs. “I have to go.”_

_“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Luke asks quietly. “With Niall?”_

_“Yeah.” Harry mumbles, diverting his eyes down away from Luke’s when they turn soft. “Sorry.”_

_“Nothing to be sorry for, love.” Luke says gently, pressing his lips against Harry’s forehead. “There’s no shame in it, and no reason to feel guilty for not having feelings for us.”_

_“I do.” Harry tells him. “I do have feelings for you guys. I care about you both. It’s just– He’s Niall. He’s always going to be the one who has my heart. I don’t even have a choice. If I did, I’d take it back and give it to you guys. I want to. I just-”_

_“You can’t.” Luke finishes for him. “I know. We always suspected it on one level or another. We hoped we were wrong, because we wanted you to be a part of this, but it’s okay. We can’t hold it against you that you love someone else.”_

_“I wish it were different.” Harry whispers. “I wish I could fall in love with you two instead of him. I wish I could just make myself get over him and move on, because it’s never going to happen.”_

_“Don’t give up hope, love.” Luke murmurs. “He’ll come to his senses. Personally, I think Malik is a bit of a prick from the times we’ve run into him at your place. They’ll never last. I know waiting it out will be tough, but, when the time comes, make your move. Don’t be afraid.”_

_“I’ve spent my whole life being afraid.” Harry mutters. “It’s a reflex at this point.”_

_“You haven’t got any reason to be afraid, love.” Luke tells him. “You’re brilliant and funny and sweet. You could have the whole world if you just decided to take it.”_

_“I don’t want the whole world.” Harry says quietly. “I just want him.”_

_“Well, I think the first step to that is probably getting out of this bed.” Luke chuckles. “Besides, you know Ash. He’ll come haul us out of here by our ankles in a few minutes if we don’t get up.”_

_“Not yet.” Harry pleads, curling his fingers into Luke’s shirt. “Please don’t make me go yet.”_

_“I’d never make you do anything.” Luke says gently. “And you can stay as long as you want to. Believe me, I’m in no rush to get you out of here. I’d keep you right here with us if I thought it would make you happy.”_

_“I have been, you know.” Harry mumbles against Luke’s chest when he tucks himself in closer to the older man. “I’ve been really happy with you guys. You’re the only people besides Niall who ever made me feel special at all. Like I matter a way that didn’t have to do with how I look or my family’s money.”_

_“You are special.” Luke says immediately, a firm tone to his voice that reminds Harry of Louis’ adamancy and Liam’s faith. Luke says what he feels, and he never lets go of his beliefs. But, the thing is, he’s usually right. He’s usually right, so if he says that Harry is special, then maybe he is. “And it has nothing to do with your looks, or your family, or Niall, Harry. You’re special without any of those things.”_

_“Why– Why would you say that about Niall?” Harry asks, pulling out of Luke’s arms to sit up._

_“Because you think of him like the sun, and like you just revolve around him.” Luke answers. “But you’re more than just your connection to him. And, yes, he’s a great person, but you don’t need him to be special, and he has nothing to do with what makes you special. That’s all you, Harry.”_

_“No it isn’t.” Harry mutters, shaking his head. “Before Niall came along, I was too scared to speak to anyone. I was scared of everything, and I mean that. I was scared of the dark and thunder and animals and people and boats and riding in cars. I can literally go for ages telling you all the things I was scared of. He helped me see that the world isn’t something to be afraid of. He literally helped me see everything in a whole new way, and, without him, I’d still be nothing more than the coward I was back then.”_

_“He helped you see everything in a whole new way, and yet you still see yourself the same.” Luke sighs. “Maybe he did help you change, but you’re the only one who can help yourself see that he’s not what makes you, you, Harry. You get to decide who you are, and, deep down, you have to know that you’re more than what you see. You have to know that you’re special because you’re you. I didn’t fall in love with Niall, I fell in lo-”_

_“Don’t.” Harry whispers, cutting him off. “It’s hard enough leaving already without hearing you say the words. I’m upset enough about going back. My parents are pissed because I’m drawing on my trust to rent a flat in the village, because they feel like I’m snubbing them and their offer to sponsor my travelling. And I’ll have to share the space with not only Niall, but Zayn as well, who’s enlisted me to help him surprise Niall because he’s coming earlier than they talked about, which means that I don’t even get to spend any time alone with my best friend, because Zayn isn’t even going to be getting a job while we-”_

_“Breathe, love.” Luke interjects, catching Harry’s cheeks between his hands. “You’re getting a bit manic. What do you need to feel better?”_

_“You.” Harry says quietly. “Just you two, one more time. Please.”_

_“I think we can do that.” Luke nods. “We can get started. Ash will be up here soon enough.”_

_“I’m going to miss you.” Ashton murmurs, catching Harry by surprise as he slips into the shower behind the younger lad. “Is there really not anything we can say to make you stay?”_

_“Do you know a magic spell to make me not be in love with him anymore?” Harry asks. “Because, if you do, then that’s all it would take.”_

_“No magic, I’m afraid.” Ashton chuckles. “The best I can do is pull a coin out of your ear, and that trick won’t work when I haven’t got any money on me.”_

_“Or when you’re naked.” Harry snorts. “Not that I’m complaining.”_

_“Now would be a funny time to start complaining about that.” Ashton scoffs. “After, what? Five months? Not a high note for us to go out on.”_

_“Do you hate me for going?” Harry asks weakly._

_“No, I understand.” Ashton tells him. “Luke told me about Niall, not that I didn’t already have a pretty good idea about it myself, and I know that you have to follow that through.”_

_“I can’t give myself to you guys the way you deserve.” Harry mumbles. “My heart would always be with him.”_

_“I know.” Ashton nods, brushing Harry’s heavy, wet fringe out of his face until it’s tucked behind his ears. “We don’t hold it against you, babe. You have to chase your happiness, and, if Niall is that happiness, then that’s okay. I’m just sorry that we couldn’t give you whatever it is you need.”_

_“You do.” Harry insists. “Ash, you guys are amazing. It’s not that there’s something you can’t give me. I promise, it’s not that. You– You guys are great, and if I could choose someone to love, it would be you two. I can’t do that, though. You can’t choose who you fall in love with, and I don’t have a choice in being in love with Niall. It’s not something I can help, no matter how much I wish I could.”_

_“Ugh, why did you have to be so wonderful?” Ashton sighs, cupping Harry’s cheek. “It would be a lot easier to deal with this if you were just a really sexy arsehole. You just had to be sweet though, didn’t you? Had to be someone I could fall for.”_

_“You guys can do better than me.” Harry says with a laugh that he doesn’t really feel. “I’m just the spoiled rich kid with a good body and a nice mouth. You would have gotten tired of me eventually.”_

_“You need to have your head examined, babe.” Ashton murmurs, slipping his arm behind Harry’s back to pull him in closer. “Because you must be crazy if you think that’s true. We’re letting you go because it’s what you need, not because it’s what we want, Harry. It’s breaking our hearts. And I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty, I’m not, but I need you to know that you’re not just a warm body to us. We adore you. We love you, and we’re in love with you, and letting you walk away is the hardest thing we’ve ever done as a couple, even though we know that we have to.”_

_“You’ll still have each other when I’m gone.” Harry points out._

_“Doesn’t mean that we won’t be heartbroken.” Ashton returns. “It doesn’t mean that we didn’t want to make room in our life for you. We have each other, yeah, but that doesn’t mean that we aren’t going to miss you, or that we’ll love you any less.”_

_“Since when do you say soppy things like that?” Harry asks, dropping his forehead against Ashton’s shoulder and letting the water from the shower head pelt against his back as he leans into Ashton and lets the older man take care of him._

_And it’s good. It’s something that he’s gotten used to over the last six months, something that he’s come to enjoy, because Ashton is strong and solid when Harry feels weak. He’s uplifting smiles and warm embraces and tender touches, and Harry wishes so badly that he could return the love that this amazing man gives him._

_“Since I can’t let you walk away thinking that I could ever have gotten tired of having you in my life.” Ashton murmurs, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple. “If you’re leaving, I need you to know that you matter to me. I’m not very good at saying things like that, but I don’t want you to think that I care about you any less just because I’m not good with words like you are.”_

_“You two are going to be okay, right?” Harry asks him. “You two aren’t going to let me leaving wreck things between you?”_

_“It’s going to be hard for a while, but we’ll help each other through it.” Ashton says softly. “He’s the only thing keeping me from cuffing you to the headboard, honestly. He’s the sane one.”_

_“I wondered why Luke made you put the handcuffs away last night.” Harry says with a short laugh. He feels his smile break out against Ashton’s skin, despite the grief building in his heart, because, even if he can’t give his heart to them, he knows now how it feels to be loved._

_“You guys didn’t have to see me off.” Harry mumbles, dropping his head low to cover up his blush. “I’d understand.”_

_“You didn’t think we were going to let you go without a proper goodbye, did you?” Ashton scoffs._

_“Well, I mean– We had a pretty good goodbye before I left your flat.” Harry points out. “Like, four of them, actually.”_

_“Sex isn’t a goodbye.” Luke snorts. “You know better than that. You’re young, but you aren’t stupid.”_

_“It’s always been kind of like a hello and a goodbye for me.” Harry says with a shrug. “Never had anybody care enough to give me a proper goodbye afterwards. Most of the time they’re barely even still awake.”_

_“Well we’re not like the other people you’ve slept with.” Ashton hums. “We’re much better.”_

_“We care about you.” Luke says gently, waving Ashton off._

_“That’s what I’m saying.” Ashton grumbles. “Clearly he has a habit of picking terrible lovers if none of them can see how brilliant he is. He’s more than a pretty face and nice lips and a sweet arse and a pretty cock and-”_

_“Shut up.” Harry giggles. “I get it. You’re going to miss the sex.”_

_“It’s you that I’m going to miss.” Ashton murmurs fondly, brushing Harry’s fringe out of his eyes. “Your hot little body is nice, but it’s your heart and your mind I fell for.”_

_“Just nice?” Harry asks, feigning incredulity._

_“Okay, it’s bloody brilliant.” Ashton says, rolling his eyes. “Always fishing for compliments, you are.”_

_“He’s getting snippy. That means he’s close to crying.” Luke says with a soft smile._

_“I know.” Harry grins when Ashton huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Guess we should hurry this up. He’ll never forgive me if I make him cry without the excuse of one of my soppy movies to hide behind.”_

_“You’re both awful.” Ashton whines, stomping his foot._

_“I’m going to miss you.” Harry whispers, pecking a quick kiss to Ashton’s cheek. “But don’t cry. I’m not worth it.”_

_“You are.” Ashton murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Harry’s lips. “Bye, babe.”_

_“Bye, Ash.” Harry says quietly, butting his forehead against the older lad’s before turning to Luke. “I’m going to miss you too.”_

_“You can always come back.” Luke says with a wavering smile and damp eyes. “If– If things ever change, you can come back.”_

_“I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry tells him, but they all three know it’s a lie. They all three know that things aren’t going to change. They all three know that Harry picking them as a second choice, if he were even able to get over Niall at all, wouldn’t be right. Ashton and Luke deserve better than that, and Harry can’t give them that. “Just go ahead and kiss me goodbye before I start ugly-crying, yeah?”_

_“Goodbye, love.” Luke murmurs, giving Harry a fleeting kiss to the lips before pressing a longer one against his forehead._

_Harry climbs in the car after that, unable to make his tongue actually form the word ‘goodbye’. He’s not ever been particularly good with them, always cried a bit too much and stuttered out his words. He doesn’t want these two to remember him like that. He doesn’t want them to remember him as a whimpering, self-involved, twenty year old kid. He wants them to remember him as someone who might have actually deserved the fondness and affection and love that they’ve showered him with over the last five months, though he knows that he isn’t._

_“I’m surprised I managed to score an audience with you before you’ve even stopped by the flat.” Gemma hums. “Normally it’s always NiallNiallNiall with you.”_

_“I can’t go to the flat right now.” Harry mumbles. “Zayn is getting in in a couple hours, and I’m picking him up to help him surprise Niall. If I just left randomly, Niall would know something is up.”_

_“You’re pussy-whipped, and you aren’t even getting any.” Gemma snorts._

_“Can I at least get something in my stomach before you start acting like our parents and criticizing every move I make?” Harry sighs, heading into the kitchen. “I swear, they go out of town for a few days, and you turn into mum, but without her manners.”_

_“What’s got you in such a bitchy mood?” Gemma scoffs, following after him._

_“I don’t want to talk about it.” Harry mutters. “Today’s just– It’s not a good day for me, alright? I just want it to be over, and it’s barely even started.”_

_“Is there a problem between you and Niall?” Gemma asks. “Are you two having a row?”_

_“It doesn’t have anything to do with Niall.” Harry grumbles, setting the kettle on the stove to boil. “Just leave it alone, Gems. I said that I don’t want to talk about it.”_

_“Want to talk about school?” Gemma asks._

_“I’d rather shove a fork in my asshole.” Harry says with a roll of his eyes. “Repeatedly.”_

_“Well, what can I talk about then?” Gemma asks, sounding more than a bit irritated already. “Niall is off the table. School is too. It’s not like you ever date, so your love life isn’t even a possible source of conversation.”_

_“Why don’t you talk about yourself?” Harry mutters, digging through the cupboard for a mug. “We both know you love doing that.”_

_“Listen here, you little wanker.” Gemma huffs, grabbing Harry by the elbow and forcing him around. “You can go fuck yours– What’s wrong?”_

_And, really, he should have known he wouldn’t be able to hide anything from her right now. Not if she saw his face. He’s too raw and on edge to hide his emotions properly. This is exactly why he couldn’t bring himself to go to the flat yet. He needs more time to pull himself together before Niall can see him. If he can’t hide from Gemma, then there’s no way he can hide from Niall._

_“Harry, what’s wrong?” Gemma asks again, all the venom completely gone from her voice this time. “You’re practically crying.”_

_“I don’t want to talk about it, Gems.” Harry mumbles, squeezing his eyes tight to dam up the tears before they can actually start. “I just want to forget it happened, and not talk about it anymore. I’m fine, I promise.”_

_“Harry, did– Did somebody hurt you?” Gemma asks carefully._

_“No.” Harry says with a mirthless laugh. “No, I hurt myself. I gave up something good for something that’ll never happen, because I can’t change the way I feel. So, just– Just leave it alone, please. Tell me about what you’ve been up to, because I really just don’t want to think about myself, or Niall, or Zayn, or anything else at the moment.”_

_“I got my estate agent license.” Gemma offers._

_“Tell me everything.” Harry requests, turning back to the tea kettle._

_And, well, maybe he didn’t mean ‘everything’ when he said it, but, as Gemma launches into her lengthy, painfully-detailed explanation, Harry finds his thoughts slipping away from Niall and Zayn and Ashton and Luke. That’s exactly what he needs._


	22. Chapter 22

_“You look right excited to be back in town. Have a row with your parents already or summat?” Zayn asks as he hands Harry his bags to put in the back of the car._

_“My parents have gone out of town this week so they can avoid speaking to me.” Harry mutters. “They’re not exactly happy with me between my exam scores and my turning down their offer to have me travel and the fact that I’m using my trust fund to rent a flat instead of staying up at the house. I doubt I’ll be hearing much from either of them this summer except the rent statement.”_

_“And why aren’t you travelling or staying at the house?” Zayn asks._

_“Because I wouldn’t enjoy travelling knowing that Bobby is here with his condition deteriorating, and I don’t really want to live with my parents after experiencing what it’s like to live without their constant scrutiny, alright?” Harry says snidely. “Besides, Niall can’t afford a flat when all his money is going into caring for Bobby, and you’re taking the summer to work on your art, so I don’t really know how you thought you two were going to afford a place without someone to bankroll it.”_

_“Point taken.” Zayn nods, climbing into the passenger seat when Harry shuts the door to the car. Harry takes a minute to push down his temper and the constant feeling of needing to throw up that occurs whenever he’s in close proximity with Zayn, and then gets behind the wheel. “Are we going straight to the flat?”_

_“Yeah.” Harry answers. “We’ll drop our luggage in the rooms, and then I’ll text Niall to head on over.”_

_“And he has no idea I’m coming?” Zayn asks._

_“Not unless you’ve told him.” Harry says, turning over the engine and pulling out onto the road. “I haven’t said a word. I’ve barely spoken to him since you decided to push up your arrival, actually. He’s been busy with Bobby, and I had finals.”_

_“And your boyfriends.” Zayn adds._

_“They weren’t my boyfriends.” Harry says quietly. “They were just a hookup that I had more than once.”_

_“They were a hookup you were seeing at least four times a week for five months.” Zayn points out. “That sounds pretty serious to me.”_

_“Well, that doesn’t make them my boyfriends, Zayn.” Harry says icily. “It was just a lot easier than going out to pull all the time. The sex was good, so we kept doing it. It wasn’t a relationship. There weren’t feelings involved between me and them.”_

_And it hurts to lie about them, hurts to deny what he had with Ashton and Luke, but he knows that it’s for the best. He needs to put them out of his mind. He needs to forget about them and the love that they had for him, because things were so much easier when he didn’t know what it felt like to be loved._

_Because love is a drug, and, now that Harry’s had a taste, he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive without it._

_“Whatever you say, mate.” Zayn hums, drumming his fingers against his knees. “Sorry if it’s a touchy subject. Didn’t mean to pry.”_

_Harry doesn’t reply, doesn’t think he can without saying something rude, so he decides to let silence fill the car for the rest of the short drive. It’s easier this way. He’s learned to keep his feelings in check around Zayn, but it’s been a while since he had to, so it’s going to take a little bit to get back into the habit._

_It doesn’t help that he’s still frazzled and raw and feels like one giant exposed nerve right now. When he was with Gemma, his mind could focus on something other than Niall and Zayn, or Ashton and Luke, but he doesn’t have Gemma right now. He doesn’t have anything between him and the giant, jagged piece of glass that’s slowly shredding him away, bit by bit._

_The flat isn’t far from the train station, thankfully, and they get there in just a few minutes. Harry isn’t sure he could handle much more._

_He grabs his own bags from the boot and makes his way to the door, taking out the key that Gemma had presented him with earlier, and steps into his home for the next few months._

_The place is furnished tastefully, with comfortable looking furniture and a cozy environment that feels warm and inviting, despite the lack of personal touches. His mother does an excellent job with that, as is expected, seeing as it’s her side of the business._

_“You two are sharing the master in the back.” Harry tells Zayn when he trundles in with his bags. “You have your own loo, but the only shower is in the communal bathroom in between the two bedrooms.”_

_“Have you been here before?” Zayn asks._

_“I was dragged along by my father when he did the inspection on the building after they built it.” Harry answers._

_“Your father is a building inspector?” Zayn questions. “Is your mother wealthy or something? How do you have a trust fund?”_

_“My family owns the building, Zayn.” Harry sighs. “Along with most of the village, and a good chunk of the real estate and farmland in the county.”_

_“Wait, you’re part of that ‘Styles’ family?” Zayn asks, his jaw dropping open in shock. “Like, the gajillionaire Styles family?”_

_“Yup.” Harry says dryly. “We have more money than god, and more entitlement too.”_

_“Well, shite.” Zayn snorts. “Didn’t know I was living with a bloody millionaire. Now I don’t feel so bad about not paying rent.”_

_“Let me know when you’re done unpacking.” Harry mutters, hoisting his bags back up and heading towards his bedroom. “I’ll text Niall after you’ve finished.”_

_He barely manages not to slam the door when he closes it, but isn’t quite so successful with the wardrobe when he shoves his bags inside. His clothes are probably wrinkled already, so he doesn’t really care about unpacking at the moment. He’d rather just sit on his bed and try to concentrate all of what’s upsetting him into a tiny ball that he can shove down, down, down until it’s not stabbing at him every second._

_His eyes scan over his living space, but soon stop on the bookshelf. They’re not supposed to come with anything on them, but every shelf is nearly over-filled with books on top of other books, stacked up to the top. There’s a note settled on the middle shelf, a card with a familiar scrawl of his name, and he practically jumps up to read it._

_“Dear, Harry.” Harry reads out loud, unable to stop himself. “I’m proud of you, no matter what stance your father has taken on the issue of where you’re living. I think you’re brave for choosing to live how you want to, without relying on us. Your father will come around. Until then, I’ve moved your books here from the house. I love you. Mum.”_

_He folds the card back into the envelope and sets it on the desk next to the bookshelf, wiping furiously at his eyes as they begin to water._

_This is exactly what he needed to turn today around. It’s small, but it’s enough. It’s enough to bandage him up just a bit and stop everything from hurting quite so much._

_He hears the front door click open and sighs. Fucking Zayn. How’s he ever expecting to keep his arrival a secret if he goes outside?_

_Harry steps out of his room and heads into the living room to scold Zayn when he gets back, but stops dead in his tracks when he sees someone else standing there instead._

_“Haz!” Niall beams, rushing through the space until he collides with Harry, very nearly knocking the taller lad onto his arse with the force. His arms wrap around Harry’s chest, and his grip is too hard, really, but Harry doesn’t mind one bit. He doesn’t mind, because he squeezes back just as tight and buries his face in Niall’s hair when the blond tucks into his neck, his lips pressed right against the skin as he mumbles out, “I missed you so bloody much.”_

_“Missed you too, Ni.” Harry breathes out. “You look like hell though.”_

_“Sod off.” Niall snorts, pulling back to smack at Harry’s chest. “I work on a trawler in the mornings, fishing with a crew, and then I sleep a bit, take Bobby to his appointments, sleep a bit more, and then work down at the Rover. I’m busy, but I’m handling it just fine.”_

_“How did you know I was here?” Harry asks to keep himself from scolding Niall for pushing himself so hard when he knows that Harry is willing to pay for Bobby’s treatments._

_“Somebody at the Rover said they saw your car.” Niall answers. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? I thought you were getting in later, or I wouldn’t have signed up for a long shift tonight. I have to head back in a minute. I’m on break right now, but Liam agreed to let me off early tonight. I have something that I really want to talk to you about, and-”_

_Harry never gets to hear the end of that sentence though, because Niall is interrupted by another voice._

_“Alright, Harry. You can go ahead and-” Zayn says, walking into the living room and then cutting himself off. “Well, never mind. Guess you texted him already. Thanks for waiting like you said you would.”_

_“I didn’t text him.” Harry tells him. “He just showed up.”_

_“Zayn?” Niall asks, breaking his hold on Harry and stepping back. “I thought you weren’t coming until the middle of the month?”_

_“I wanted to surprise you.” Zayn smiles. “Harry helped smuggle me in.”_

_“I- I have to work.” Niall says quietly._

_“Typical.” Zayn snorts. “Well, come over here real quick then. Haven’t seen you in ages.”_

_Harry barely manages to contain an eye roll at that, or himself from vomiting when Niall obeys and is quickly drawn into a kiss by Zayn._

_“Tell you what.” Harry says a bit more loudly than is strictly necessary. “Take the night off. I’ll cover the rest of your shift at the Rover. I’m sure Liam and Louis won’t mind.”_

_“Harry, no.” Niall says, turning back towards him. “You don’t have to do that.”_

_“You two haven’t seen each other in a while.” Harry says with a shrug, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything he needs. “Take some private time together. I need to see the boys anyways.”_

_“Thanks, millionaire.” Zayn smirks, pulling Niall in close. “You’re saving me a wicked case of blue-balls.”_

_“Glad I could help.” Harry scoffs, grabbing his sunglasses off of the counter and heading towards the door. “See you guys later.”_

_“We’ll talk tonight, yeah?” Niall calls after him, and Harry throws up a thumb to answer in the affirmative, since his throat doesn’t feel like it can form words right now._

_He closes the door behind himself, and makes a beeline down the sidewalk. His hands are shaking too badly to keep his grip on the sunglasses, and they fall, only to shatter when they hit the cement. And Harry wants to cry, wants to let out the emotion inside before it takes over, but he can’t. He can’t, because, if he does, he’ll never be able to stop, and Niall can’t know there’s anything wrong._

_So he looks down at the broken shards of glass that are all that’s left from the first present he was ever given by anyone who loved him, and then keeps on walking._

_"Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Harry groans under his breath when Niall and Zayn walk into the pub, hand in hand. He’s only been there for two hours. Can’t they give him more than that at least?_

_“Holy bloody God in heaven.” Liam gasps next to Harry. “That’s Niall’s boyfriend?”_

_“Yes.” Harry sighs. “Any chance I can work in the back?”_

_“You are not getting anywhere near the food.” Liam scoffs. “Or an oven. We’ve worked too hard making this place into something just to have you burn it to the ground.”_

_“Washing dishes then.” Harry says, his voice edging on desperate. “Just– I don’t want to work the floor anymore. Please, Li.”_

_“Come with me.” Liam says quietly, nodding at Louis for him to take over the bar while he leads Harry to the back. It isn’t until the office door is closed behind them that Liam asks, “What’s wrong, green eyes?”_

_“Nothing.” Harry mumbles, dropping his eyes to the floor._

_“You have been working here since we opened.” Liam says, taking a seat at his desk and rubbing his temples. “In all that time, you have never, ever asked to be taken off of the floor. You actually tend to be a bit of a brat when I ask you to wash dishes. What’s wrong?”_

_“Never mind. I’ll work the floor.” Harry tells him, turning back towards the door._

_“Do not walk out on me when I’m talking to you.” Liam says sternly, making Harry freeze in place. His voice drops away from that, back to his more familiar, gentle tone when he adds, “You need to talk, green eyes. I’ve seen it since you walked in here to cover Niall’s shift. Just– Just talk to me.”_

_“I can’t be around them right now.” Harry whispers, dropping his forehead against the door. “It’s just been a really long day already.”_

_“And since when isn’t Niall the cure to a long day for you?” Liam asks._

_“Since Zayn fucking Malik is here!” Harry roars, slamming his palm flat against the door. “Since that pompous, neglectful, self-centered, commitment-phobic, smug son of a bitch is right fucking out there, and he’s a package deal with Niall!”_

_“Harry, I’ve never heard you say a bad word about anyone.” Liam says softly, the heavy sound of his booted feet against the hardwood sounding through the room as he makes his way over. “What has this guy done to make you hate him?”_

_“He’s no good for Niall.” Harry mutters. “Zayn doesn’t treat him right, and it’s going to end badly, and I’ve told Niall that, but he won’t listen. He won’t fucking listen to me.”_

_“Come here.” Liam murmurs, turning Harry around and pulling him tight against his chest. “You love him, don’t you?”_

_“He’s my best friend.” Harry mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut._

_“He’s more than that, though. Isn’t he?” Liam asks. “You love him, but you’re also in love with him, aren’t you?”_

_“Please don’t tell.” Harry whimpers. “Please, Li. Please, please, please don’t tell.”_

_“Your secret is safe with me, green eyes.” Liam says softly. “But why are you putting yourself through this? If you can’t be in the same room with Zayn, how do you think you’re going to get through living with him for this whole summer?”_

_“I just need a day.” Harry says quietly. “I need one day to get myself together, but everything just keeps getting worse. Ever since I got in my car, I feel like I haven’t been able to catch my breath. I just need some time to remember how to breathe.”_

_“Is there more to this than just the two of them?” Liam asks. “This seems like it runs a bit deeper than that.”_

_“I broke off something good in London.” Harry admits. “I was, um– I was dating two guys back in London. We had a really great thing going, and I cared about them, and they loved me, but I couldn’t stay with them. I broke things off because I’m in love with him, even though I don’t fucking want to be.”_

_“You were dating two guys?” Liam asks confusedly. “And they were both okay with that?”_

_“They were a couple.” Harry sighs. “I– I was their third. It started out as a few threesomes, but we got closer, and, eventually, it became a lot more than just sex. They were the first people who actually wanted to get to know me, other than Niall.”_

_“Hey!” Liam pouts._

_“Stop that.” Harry scoffs. “Niall basically forced the two of you into befriending me. You liked him, and I just tagged along wherever he went, being awkward.”_

_“That’s not true.” Liam huffs, taking one of his hands off of Harry’s back and smacking him lightly in the back of the head. “I liked you too, with or without Niall. I always have. So has Louis.”_

_“Don’t hit me.” Harry grumbles, pinching at Liam’s arm._

_“Oh please, I bet you barely felt a thing through these curls of yours.” Liam snorts, ruffling his hand through Harry’s locks. “So springy and thick.”_

_“Not quite as bad as the pictures Louis has shown me of you back in the day.” Harry counters with a smirk._

_And, really, Liam looked quite cute with his rosy cheeks and wide grin and crinkled eyes and thick head of curly, curly hair. Harry thinks Liam’s look now suits him quite well, thinks he looks more like a proper man, but that curly hair suited him as well. It’s hard to imagine that there’s anything Liam couldn’t pull off with that beaming smile of his, and making Harry feel a bit at ease is definitely on the list of things he can do with it._

_“You’ve had a rough day, so I won’t give you another whack, but you deserve it for that.” Liam chuckles. “I’ll talk to Lou. You can work washing dishes for the rest of the night. But, listen– If you ever need to talk about any of this, you can come to me. I’ll keep your secrets, green eyes.”_

_“From Louis too, yeah?” Harry asks nervously. “Because you know how he gets when he’s had a bit too much-”_

_“I know my husband’s flaws.” Liam cuts him off with a laugh. “It’ll just be between us. I promise.”_

_“Thank you.” Harry breathes out. “I just– Thank you. Thanks for not judging me or making fun of me.”_

_“I’m here for you, green eyes.” Liam murmurs, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “For whatever that’s worth to you, I’m here.”_

_“It’s worth a lot more than you know.” Harry smiles._

_“There you are.” Niall slurs out, sitting up on the couch and rubbing tiredly at his eyes when Harry walks in at a little after two in the morning. The lights are all off, but there’s a soft glow coming from the telly, illuminating Niall’s sleep-soft features. And Harry is too tired to deal with this, too frazzled to handle Niall all ruffled and tangled up with his mother’s quilt and looking at him with half-lidded eyes, but a full smile. “They had you close up on your first night back in town?”_

_“I might have broken a few plates and glasses.” Harry sighs._

_He doesn’t add that it might not have been just a few, and it might not have been an accident. Zayn showed up in the kitchen, apparently misinterpreting the directions for the bathroom and taking the opportunity to thank Harry for the ‘spectacular fucking blowjob’ that Niall gave him once they were alone. If Harry sent a whole tall-stack of plates crashing down, and threw a tray of glasses, really, it’s Zayn’s fault._

_“Ah, that’ll do it with Louis.” Niall nods. “It took me a couple days to get back in the swing of things too. Dropped a full pint on some bird my first night back.”_

_“Why aren’t you back in your bed sleeping?” Harry asks. “If you’re working on a trawler, then you probably have to get up in, what? Three hours?”_

_“Two.” Niall corrects him after glancing at his mobile. “I have to actually be on the boat in three hours, or they’ll leave without me. They let me come along, and they pay me for the work, but I’m not crew. They have no obligation to me.”_

_“They’d wait.” Harry hums. “Can’t imagine that anyone wouldn’t wait for you.”_

_“Shut up.” Niall snorts._

_“I’ll let you get back to sleep.” Harry says quietly, reaching down to grab the remote and shut off the telly before heading to his bedroom._

_He’s barely got the door to his room closed before it’s opening back up and Niall is shuffling inside, still wrapped in Maura’s quilt, mumbling, “I wasn’t done talking.”_

_“Niall, I’m tired.” Harry mutters, stripping off his shirt and jeans to replace them with a loose t-shirt and joggers from the bags in his wardrobe. “And you look flat knackered. How about I take Bobby to his appointment later so that you can get some extra sleep, and we can talk once you don’t look like you’re about to drop dead from exhaustion.”_

_“I’m fine.” Niall huffs, dropping onto Harry’s bed. “Honestly, I got less sleep when I was a student than I do now.”_

_“You weren’t working two jobs when you were a student.” Harry counters, crawling under the duvet on the opposite side. “I know how important taking care of Bobby is to you, but you need to take care of yourself as well. You let your stubbornness get the better of you sometimes, and it backfires.”_

_“Thank you.” Niall says quietly, scooting across the bed and laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. “For coming back, and for offering to help with Bobby, and for renting this place. I know that we haven’t talked much since I moved back here, and that I ruined our summer plans, but-”_

_“You didn’t ruin anything.” Harry tells him. “I just want to spend time with you. It doesn’t matter if that’s here, or in Asia, or anywhere else. I want to help you however I can. Renting this flat and driving Bobby around are nothing compared to what I’d do for you. You’re my best friend.”_

_“Don’t deserve you.” Niall mumbles sleepily into Harry’s neck. He drapes his arm over Harry’s stomach, and the brunet knows it’s over. Niall won’t be leaving his bed tonight. He doesn’t really mind that._


	23. Chapter 23

_“Why do you look like someone shot your puppy?” Zayn asks, taking a seat next to Harry at the island counter._

_“I’m a cat person.” Harry mutters the words into his third cup of tea so far. None of them have helped. “Niall woke me up when he was getting ready, and I never got back to sleep properly.”_

_He misses waking up with Luke and Ashton, misses having a good time in the bed, followed by a good time in the shower, and then the perfect cup of tea. Ashton makes the best tea. Harry hasn’t made his own tea in so long that he’s practically forgotten how. The first cup scalded the roof of his mouth, and the second was overly sweet, and this one didn’t steep for long enough, so it’s basically just hot water, sugar and cream. Today isn’t off to a great start._

_“I didn’t even realize he was gone until I woke up and the bed was empty.” Zayn says with a shrug. “You must be a light sleeper.”_

_“No, you just sleep like the dead.” Harry returns. “It’s actually a bit insane. I’ve seen you sleep through a fire alarm that was going off ten feet away.”_

_And Harry wants so badly to tell him the truth, wants to tell Zayn that he wouldn’t have woken up anyways, because Niall was never near him before he left this morning. He woke up in Harry’s bed, not Zayn’s, and he wore Harry’s clothes so that he didn’t have to go in Zayn’s room, and he said goodbye to Harry, and not Zayn. But that won’t help anything. It won’t make Niall fall in love with Harry, it won’t ease Harry’s tense shoulders and tight back and aching heart, and it won’t make this summer any easier on any of the three of them._

_So Harry keeps it simple, lets Zayn think that it’s just about how heavily he sleeps, and lets the rest of it go before it can form on his tongue._

_“I was thinking about going to pick some stuff up for around the flat today.” Zayn says, getting back up to start the coffee maker. “And I have to find a halal butcher around here to get my meat from. I looked it up, and there’s one not too incredibly far from here.”_

_“And you want to borrow the car.” Harry guesses._

_“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.” Zayn offers._

_And, well, there’s no good answer to that. Because the truth is that Harry would rather shove a knife in each of his eyes than spend five minutes alone with Zayn, but he can’t very well say that._

_So he settles instead for, “I’m going over to help Liam and Louis set up before opening, and then I have to take Bobby to his appointment. I don’t have time today. But, if you wait to go shopping until Niall has slept, then I’ll lend him my car and you guys can go.”_

_“Don’t trust me with your Jag?” Zayn chuckles._

_“No.” Harry says bluntly. “I barely trust Niall to drive it, and he’s a better driver than I am. He’s the only other person I let behind the wheel. I wouldn’t even let my sister use it when hers was in the shop for repairs.”_

_“Matching birthday presents from your father?” Zayn asks._

_“Hardly.” Harry scoffs. “My father doesn’t believe in spoiling me or Gemma. He probably actually got us less impressive Christmas and birthday gifts than the average person, most of the time. My car was the first thing I bought with my trust fund when I turned eighteen.”_

_“So, just how rich are you?” Zayn questions. “Ballpark figure.”_

_“Rich enough to know better than to tell people my net worth.” Harry counters._

_“Then, why, in God’s name, would you bother to spend your time working in a greasy little pub like the Red Rover?” Zayn snorts. “It seems a bit beneath someone like you.”_

_“Fuck off!” Harry growls, gripping onto the counter so that he doesn’t fly across the kitchen and hit Zayn for insulting Liam and Louis like that. “They’ve worked hard to build that place up from literally nothing!”_

_“It’s not about the pub.” Zayn says with a shrug. “I like the pub. It’s about you. You’ve always seemed a bit – I don’t know – smug and superior. Now that I know you’re a Styles, I get why. I’m just surprised that you’d bother doing anything like that when you clearly don’t have to.”_

_“The only thing that’s clear here is that you don’t know me at all.” Harry mutters, pouring his tea in the sink and stalking out of the house, only stopping to grab his wallet and keys on the way out the door._

_He sends Niall a quick text telling him about the arrangement for the car later, and saying that he’ll be out for the rest of the day except when he gives him the car keys. God, this is going to be one long fucking summer._

_“Do I come off as smug and superior?” Harry asks quietly, not looking up from where he’s wiping the bar down._

_“You come off as someone who still doesn’t know how to clean a bloody bar after years of working in a pub.” Louis huffs, smacking Harry’s hand and taking the flannel that he’s using. “How many times have I got to tell you to wipe in circles? Wax on, wax off, dickhead. Watch a real classic for once, instead of one of those stupid, soppy black and white films, will you?”_

_“You are the most ungrateful sod that I know.” Harry grumbles._

_“Nobody asked you to be here.” Louis points out. “In fact, we’re behind because Liam has to run out and grab a whole crate of plates and glasses to replace everything that you broke.”_

_“I’ve already paid you back for that.” Harry sighs. “And I’ve said that I’m sorry. Why do you think I showed up here to help with opening?”_

_“Because you’re pissed off at Malik for some reason.” Louis counters. “Must be him, since Niall is on a boat right now, your parents are on holiday, and you’re here asking stupid questions with obvious answers. It’s no, by the way. You aren’t smug or superior.”_

_“I’m not pissed off at him.” Harry mutters._

_“Yes, you are.” Louis says with that conviction that’s so very characteristic of him. No matter what, Louis knows when he’s right. It’s like he can smell lies, can sniff out secrets, and it always makes Harry more than a bit wary. It always makes him worry whether or not he’s locked the door to the closet where he keeps his skeletons tightly enough. “You hate him. I’m guessing it’s because he’s the first guy you’ve ever met that’s prettier than you.”_

_“He is not!” Harry squawks._

_“Who’s not what now?” Liam grunts, walking through the door with a large box._

_“Your husband thinks that Zayn is hotter than me!” Harry growls, taking the box out of Liam’s arms. “Tell him that he’s wrong!”_

_“Well, I suppose that’s more of an opinion. It’s neither wrong nor right.” Liam offers._

_“Don’t be diplomatic.” Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Who do you agree with?”_

_“Sorry, Harry.” Liam sighs. “I don’t really see you that way. Feels a bit incestuous. I have to give it to Zayn, if just because you’re like a little brother to me.”_

_“Fuck you both.” Harry huffs. “I know that I’m hotter. That’s all that matters. Who would want that skinny little twig over me?”_

_“Niall, apparently.” Louis hums, taking the box out of Harry’s arms and heading back towards the kitchen. He doesn’t know it, but that was a very good decision on his part. Harry was half a second from throwing the box through his head. “And anyone else with eyes.”_

_“I despise your husband.” Harry mutters to Liam once he knows that Louis is out of earshot._

_“No you don’t.” Liam snorts, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Because you know that he’s only teasing you, green eyes. He doesn’t know why it’s getting to you so badly.”_

_“Well, you do.” Harry grumbles. “And you did it too.”_

_“Yeah, but that was to preserve my marriage.” Liam chuckles. “If I say that a practical stranger is attractive in agreeance with him, then I can get away with it. I wouldn’t get away with calling you attractive. I’d be sleeping on the couch for a month.”_

_“I’m going to take that as you saying that I’m hotter than Zayn.” Harry smirks._

_“Of course you’re going to.” Liam laughs. “Go get the glasses from the boot, and then you can head out. I know that you’re supposed to be getting Bobby soon.”_

_“I’ll only do it if you tell me I’m prettier.” Harry giggles._

_“The prettiest, green eyes.” Liam grins, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple before shoving him towards the door. “Now go get those glasses.”_

_“Bobby!” Harry calls out when he lets himself into the house. “Where’s my favorite DILF?”_

_“Shut your gob.” Bobby snorts from the couch._

_And, well, Harry had been warned. Liam had told him ahead of time that it was going to be rough seeing Bobby the way he is now. He’d been cautioned not to expect him to look or act quite the way that he used to._

_But it’s different hearing about it than it is seeing it. It’s different to see for himself how Bobby has lost so much weight, and how all that’s left of his hair is patches of it here and there, and how his fingernails are missing where his hand is gripped around a beer bottle that they both know that he shouldn’t be drinking from, and both know that that doesn’t matter anymore. It’s different to hear that Bobby isn’t well, and then to see that he’s dying._

_Because that’s what’s happening. He still has that easy smile, but the light is gone from it. He’s trying to hide his pain, and only someone like Harry, someone who’s spent their whole life doing the same, is likely to see it. Only someone like them is likely to be able to tell from nothing more than a look when someone’s decided to stop fighting, and accept the inevitable._

_Bobby has stopped fighting._

_“What can I say?” Harry hums, striding into the room and shutting the door behind himself. “The Horan boys have good genetics. All of you are lookers. Even Greg, though the Horan charm seems to have skipped that half of this generation. Hopefully Theo still gets it.”_

_“Oh, he’s got it.” Bobby smirks. “Had it since he popped out of his mum, that one. Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?”_

_“I’m taking you to your appointment today.” Harry explains._

_“Niall foisted his dying da off on you then?” Bobby asks._

_“Of course not. This was my idea.” Harry tells him. “I’m sorry I never made it up here in the last couple months. I meant to, but things got – complicated.”_

_“It’s fine.” Bobby waves him off. “You’ll have your whole career to watch old men die. At least you’re doing something important with your life, unlike us Horan boys.”_

_“Bobby!” Harry gasps._

_He’s never heard Bobby sound anything but proud of Niall. Sure, he wasn’t always the best father. He spent far too many nights at the bottom of a bottle, at the bottom of ten bottles, and Niall ate more at Harry’s house than he ever did his own, but Bobby’s never been mean. He’s never been cruel, and it’s shocking to say the least. Harry feels like he’s been punched in the gut, dread taking ahold of him at the thought that Bobby might have said anything like that to Niall over the past five months._

_“Don’t act like you don’t know that what I’m saying is true.” Bobby says with a shrug. “My boy could have done anything, and what does he decide to major in at university? Audio engineering. Useless. And then he can’t even finish his degree because he decides to drop out and take care of me. He’s not going anywhere in life, unlike you.”_

_“Stop it!” Harry growls. “You stop that right now! That’s not you, Bobby!”_

_“Are you here to drive me, or to scold me?” Bobby sighs. “Because I’ll accept a ride, but I’m not listening to a lecture from a child.”_

_“Let’s go, then.” Harry mutters, walking back over to the door._

_It takes everything he has in him not to cry. This is so much worse than anything he was expecting. Seeing Bobby sick, he can handle, but he can’t handle this. Bobby might as well already be gone if this is how he thinks now._

_“I didn’t mean it to be cruel, you know.” Bobby grunts as Harry pulls up in front of his house, stirring in the seat next to Harry for the first time since they left his chemo treatment. “What I said about Niall. I just meant that he could have been great, but he chose not to be. There’s nothing shameful in not having ambitions.”_

_“He has ambitions.” Harry argues. “But he puts the people that he loves over himself. He knows that success isn’t as important as love.”_

_“Easy to say when your family is worth half a billion pounds.” Bobby scoffs. “My boy will struggle to feed himself, to house a family, for his entire life if he keeps putting everyone around him above himself. He’ll end up just like me, a lonely drunk, dying with nothing to show for his time here.”_

_“I won’t let that happen.” Harry says adamantly._

_“Good.” Bobby nods. “Everyone always says how lucky you were to have Niall come into your life, but they’re wrong. It’s him who’s lucky to have you. You give him something that nobody else can. You motivate him in a way that nobody else does. He’s spent half his life trying to be someone that you’re proud to have in yours, and, as long as you keep giving him that, maybe he’ll actually still manage to do something that matters one day.”_

_“Get out of my car.” Harry breathes out. “Just go, Bobby.”_

_“Don’t let him become like me, okay?” Bobby says quietly. “Don’t let him make my mistakes. Don’t let him not matter, Harry. And, whatever you do, pull your fucking head out of your arse.”_

_“What?” Harry asks incredulously._

_“I know it’s fun to fuck around and stick it to any nice piece of tail when you’re young, but the two of you are supposed to be together.” Bobby sighs. “You and Niall, that is. Finish sewing your oats, but don’t wait too long. God forbid he actually end up with that little prick, Zayn.”_

_“I need to get my car to them now.” Harry mumbles, ignoring the slight bit of satisfaction that he feels knowing that he’s not the only one who doesn’t like Zayn. “Do you need help getting inside?”_

_“Promise me, Harry.” Bobby says firmly, ignoring the question. “Promise me that you won’t let him become like me, at the very least. I know that I can’t ask you to have feelings for him if you don’t, but I need you to at least love him enough not to let him follow in my footsteps.”_

_“I promise.” Harry agrees._

_“Then I’ll be fine.” Bobby says with a soft smile before he climbs out of the car and heads into the house. Harry watches until Bobby disappears inside, and then heads out towards the flat._

_His head is reeling and his stomach is heaving, and he really just doesn’t want to deal with anything else today. Not Bobby or Zayn or Louis or Liam or Gemma or his parents. He doesn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. He just wants to crawl into his bed, lock the door, and stay there until tomorrow morning._

_He can probably get away with it, too. Niall will be out with Zayn, and then working tonight, so he’ll be easy to avoid. Zayn probably won’t actively seek him out, so it should definitely be easy not to see him. The plan is sound, so he decides that that’s what he’ll do._

_Harry’s plans always have a way of falling to shit, though._

_Niall is sitting on the couch when Harry walks in, but Zayn is nowhere in sight. The telly is on a footy match, but Niall immediately turns it off when he notices Harry. That’s never a good sign._

_“How was he?” Niall asks. “How much did he say? How much did he misbehave?”_

_“Well, he’s Bobby.” Harry mumbles, shrugging his shoulders and looking down to his feet. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him actually behave before.”_

_“He can’t help it, you know.” Niall sighs. “Whatever he said, he can’t help it. One of the mets is in his brain. It’s the size of a golf ball, and it’s destroyed his filter. He says everything he thinks, and he can’t stop himself. If he said anything rude about you, please forgive him. He can’t help it.”_

_“It was fine, Niall.” Harry waves him off. “He was fine.”_

_“No he wasn’t.” Niall mutters. “You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings, Haz. I know how bad he’s gotten. Did he tell you that I’m a loser that’s never going to amount to anything because I wasted my potential? He tells everyone that. I’ve gotten used to it by now. It’s his truth._

_“That’s all he has. He doesn’t have a concept of what’s rude and what’s not anymore. He doesn’t have the ability to interpret irony or sarcasm or lies. He doesn’t even have a sense of humor now. He never says anything to be cruel. He just says it because, to him, it’s the truth.”_

_“He’s wrong.” Harry tells him. “I don’t care if it’s ‘his truth’, he’s wrong.”_

_“Just, please forgive him for anything that he’s said.” Niall requests._

_“I already have.” Harry sighs. “Can you, though?”_

_“He’s my father.” Niall says quietly. “He’s my father, and he’s dying, and I don’t get to not forgive him.”_

_“Here are my keys.” Harry says, holding them out. “Just don’t let Zayn drive. I know he’s your boyfriend and all, but I don’t want him driving my baby.”_

_“He’s already gone to do the shopping.” Niall replies. “I lent him Bobby’s car so that I could talk with you like you said that we could.”_

_“We could have done that after you got back.” Harry points out._

_“No we couldn’t have, because I have to work tonight.” Niall counters. “Which you already know, and it feels like you were counting on. Why don’t you want to talk to me, Haz? Why are you avoiding me?”_

_“I’m not a-” Harry starts, but Niall cuts him off with a scoff._

_“Don’t you dare try to lie to me, Harry Edward Styles.” Niall mutters. “I’m not stupid, and I know you better than anyone. You’ve barely even looked in my direction since you got back into town, and you keep trying to put off talking to me, and then there was that whole thing where you ran away the second that I walked into the Rover. And, you don’t have to explain yourself to me, but don’t lie to me. We don’t lie to each other, Haz.”_

_“It’s not about you, Niall.” Harry says, taking a seat in the armchair opposite the couch. “I just– I’m going through something right now, and I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it with you, especially, but you’re you. You’re my best friend, and you have a history of being a bit relentless when it comes to trying to make me happy._

_“The thing is, I need to not be happy for a little while. I need to fully feel what I’m feeling before I can move on from it, so I’ve been trying to deal with it before we talked so that you didn’t sit there and try to help me move on from it before I’m ready to. I was hoping that I could clear it all up in a couple days, but it’s proving to be a bit more difficult than I originally thought.”_

_“Harry, that’s all you have to tell me.” Niall says quietly. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything. If you aren’t ready to talk, then we don’t have to.”_

_“Tonight. When you get home, we can talk, okay?” Harry offers. “I promise. I think if I just have a bit of time to myself, then I can sort this all out.”_

_“Alright.” Niall nods. “I’m going to go check on Bobby. The effects should be hitting him any time now.”_

_“If you need that to be a regular thing, I can do that.” Harry tells him. “I can take him to appointments so that you get more rest.”_

_“I’ll keep it in mind.” Niall nods, climbing off the couch and heading for the door._

_And Harry’s gut twists with the way that Niall doesn’t even look back, doesn’t say anything at all. It’s what he wanted though, to be alone. It’s what he needs, despite the heavy weight in his stomach._

_So he heads back to his bed and pulls out his mobile. His contact list is full of people, acquaintances and peers and associates that he needs to have stored away for one reason or another. Only six contacts have pictures, though, and only three of those aren’t immediate family. His thumb finds Ashton’s contact slot by instinct, right up at the top, and he clicks it open._

_His picture is the same as Luke’s, their two faces puckered into kisses where Harry’s cheeks are squished in between them. They’re naked, but you can’t see anything for the sheet draped over them, only leaving their chests and stomachs exposed. And, sure, they’re covered in sweat from exertion, and a few other liquids too, yes, but that’s not why Harry keeps the picture, and it’s not why he opened it._

_This picture is much more important than that. This picture is from the first time that Harry realized that Ashton and Luke were more to him than a good time, and that he was more to them than something to make their relationship exciting. It’s from the first time that he ever felt cared for as more than a friend or family member to someone, and it’s something that he isn’t quite ready to let go of._

_And he wants to call, to hear their voices and tell them that he misses them, but it won’t change anything. It won’t change the fact that his feelings for Niall are stronger than the ones that he has for them. It won’t change the fact that he walked away from what he could have had with them for nothing more than proximity to someone who will never feel for him what they did._

_So he hits the delete button and confirms his choice, and then does the same thing all over again with Luke, because it’s over. It’s over, and Harry has to move on before Niall gets home tonight so that he can look him in the eye again._

_Harry tries to burrow deeper into his pillows when he hears the front door open up, tries to hide from the sounds of breathless giggles and thumping of stumbling bodies knocking against the walls that his door is doing absolutely nothing to muffle. And Harry knew this was coming, knew he’d have to hear it eventually, but he was hoping that he’d be able to avoid them when it happened._

_In London he always managed to slip away, to find some excuse not to be home when Niall and Zayn would go at it, but he doesn’t have that now. He doesn’t have that, because he promised Niall that they could talk when he got home, and now he has to wait it out while they fool around. And Niall doesn’t exactly sound sober, so there’s a high chance he won’t even show up to talk, but Harry can’t just leave, or it’ll cement the idea in Niall’s head that Harry is avoiding him on the chance that he does come looking for Harry after they’ve finished their escapades._

_That’s the last thing that Harry wants._

_So he plugs his earbuds into his ears and turns the volume up so high that he can’t hear anything through the blasting of his music. He lets himself fall into it, lets himself get caught in the ebbs and flows of the song, lets himself quake with the rumble of the base vibrating in his bones, rather than the stifled sobs that are fighting so valiantly against the restraints he puts on himself whenever he’s too close to Niall. Because he can’t let himself cry, or Niall will know that something is wrong. Harry has spent far too long pretending otherwise to let it all fall apart over something like this._

_So he let himself dive into the thrum and energy and passion of music, which is never a good idea. He should know better than to get too caught up in anything whenever Niall is even somewhat around, but it seems that he never learns. So when Niall brushes his fingers over Harry’s ankle, and Harry shrieks in surprise, it’s not the first time, and probably won’t be the last._

_“Jesus Christ, Haz!” Niall hisses, tugging out Harry’s earbud. “Shut it with that racket or you’ll wake Zayn up.”_

_“Okay, I know that you two haven’t seen each other for months, but it’s only been a few minutes since you walked in the door. That’s pathetic by any standard.” Harry snorts._

_“What?” Niall asks, cocking his head to the side._

_“For you guys to have finished shagging.” Harry supplies._

_“Oh.” Niall giggles. “We didn’t do that. He’s drunk off his arse. Totally feckin pissed. He hit the mattress and passed out. I’m not really feeling it right now anyways. It’s not really a priority for me at this mo-”_

_“You don’t seem far behind.” Harry says with a roll of his eyes, cutting Niall off. “You always ramble and overshare when you’re drunk.”_

_“You should get drunk.” Niall hums, flopping onto the foot of the bed. “Might help whatever you’ve got going on.”_

_“I don’t think that copious amounts of alcohol is the solution to this particular problem.” Harry says, sitting up and tucking his chin between his knees. “What’s on your mind?”_

_“I think–” Niall says, rolling onto his back and stretching his arms and legs out like a starfish. “I think I hate everyone.”_

_“Oh.” Harry breathes out. And, he didn’t really know what to expect, because when Niall needs to talk, it can vary in intensity, but this certainly isn’t it. He’s never known Niall to hate anyone._

_“Especially him, though.” Niall whispers, his eyes locked on the ceiling. “I fucking hate him.”_

_“Bobby?” Harry guesses._

_“Yup.” Niall nods, popping the ‘p’ sound. “I hate him. I hate him, and I wish he was dead. Which is funny, because I hate him all the more for dying. Isn’t that funny?”_

_“Niall, you don’t mean that.” Harry says quietly._

_“I do, though.” Niall mutters, rolling onto his side and locking his eyes with Harry’s. “I do mean it. I hate him, Harry. I gave up everything to help him, and he calls me a failure for it. And, I know that he can’t help it, and I have to forgive him, but I hate him._

_“I hate that I’ve had to take care of him for my whole life. I hate that my mother and my brother will barely speak to me, because I chose to come with Bobby, since someone had to take care of him. I hate that he’s done this to himself, even though I’ve been trying my damnedest to make sure this very thing doesn’t happen for half of my life. I hate that he’s never even been enough of a father to me for me to call him ‘dad’, but I’m still willing to drop everything and stay by his side while he dies, and he spends the whole time insulting me to my face, and everyone else’s._

_“But, I have an expiration date for all of this. Found out about it yesterday, just a bit before you guys showed up. The doctor said that he’s got three months on the outside, maybe less, so I guess I won’t have to hate him for much longer. Lucky me.”_

_“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asks. “Niall, why didn’t you say anything?”_

_“Because you’ve been avoiding me.” Niall shrugs. “You’ve got your thing going on, and you said that you needed time to work it out before we could talk.”_

_“Jesus!” Harry groans. “Not about this! If I’d known that it was something this important, then I never would have put it off, Ni! Fuck!”_

_“Quiet!” Niall hisses, smacking at Harry’s leg. “Don’t go waking Zayn up! He doesn’t know, yet.”_

_“Why haven’t you told him, then?” Harry questions. “He’s certainly not been avoiding you.”_

_“Because you’re my Harry.” Niall says quietly. “I just– I’ve missed you so much, Haz. When I found out, all I wanted to do was talk to you. We haven’t really talked in so long, and I’ve missed you. You’re my best friend. You know me better than he does, and you understand me better. You’re the one that I needed to talk about this with, not him.”_

_And, really, Harry doesn’t know how to feel about that. He doesn’t know whether to be proud that Niall wants to talk to him first about something important, or feel worse that he’s probably just a sounding board and someone to vent to when Niall feels like he’s a bad person for what he’s feeling._

_“You– You said everyone.” Harry mumbles. “Why do you hate the rest of us?”_

_“I think Louis wants to fuck Zayn.” Niall hums. “And Liam barely talks to him. Greg won’t come out and see Bobby, so that means that he’s not going to see Theo one last time before he kicks it. My mum isn’t even taking my calls because she’s so mad that I dropped out of school for Bobby. Zayn is pretending that nothing is wrong, when everything is. Oh, and every single person in this town looks at me like I’m still the same little kid that was too scrawny because I only ate three days a week, and they all knew it, but they never did anything about it. They all know what’s happening, just like they always have, and they pity me.”_

_“And me?” Harry asks. “Why do you hate me?”_

_“I don’t.” Niall snorts. “Never have, and I doubt that I ever could. Even though you’ve been avoiding me.”_

_“I just needed a couple days, Niall.” Harry huffs. “I didn’t know that you were holding back so much, or I would have acted differently.”_

_“I’m not just talking about the last couple days, Haz.” Niall fires back. “I’m talking about the last five months. Ever since I moved back here, we barely talk. I know you get my texts, but you barely respond to half of them, and even when you do, you don’t really say anything. We’ve only talked on the phone a handful of times. If I did something to piss you off, then you need to tell me. I can’t read your mind.”_

_“You haven’t.” Harry says, shaking his head. “I just– I–”_

_He can’t make the words come out, though. He can’t tell Niall about Ashton and Luke. He can’t start that story without explaining the ending, and that isn’t an option._

_“Things got a bit complicated back in London.” Harry sighs. “Some things happened that I wasn’t really expecting, and I lost focus on what’s actually real and what isn’t for a while. I’m sorry that I let you fall to the wayside. I never meant for that to happen. I won’t let it happen again, okay?”_

_“I missed you, you know.” Niall says quietly, stretching his arm out to wrap his hand around Harry’s ankle and thumb at the bony protrusion. “Missed you more than I ever knew I could. Missed you more than anything else.”_

_“Except Zayn.” Harry fills in for him. “Who you should probably get back to. You shouldn’t make a habit of falling asleep in here when you’ve got a bed and a boyfriend two doors over.”_

_“Zayn hogs the bed.” Niall says with a soft laugh. “You’re much better to share with.”_

_“Get out of here, or you’ll spend the whole night with my feet in your side.” Harry smirks, stretching out his legs and digging the tips of his toes into Niall’s stomach. He wiggles them around, and Niall shrieks out a giggle before rolling away._

_“Fine!” he cackles, squirming away from the offending appendages. “I’ll go! Just keep them things away from me!”_

_Despite his words, he actually walks back towards where Harry is sitting once his feet are on the ground, and wraps him up in a hug that Harry returns just as tightly._

_“I really did miss you, Haz.” Niall whispers. “More than you know.”_

_“Back at you Ni.” Harry replies, nuzzling into Niall’s neck. “I missed you even more.”_

_“Not possible.” Niall hums, pecking Harry on the cheek and then stumbling out the door with a slurred, “Night, Haz. Love you.”_

_“I love you too.” Harry whispers into the darkness as he shuts off the lamp and burrows back into his bed. He can’t help it this time when he starts to cry, so he just muffles it with his pillow and hopes that Niall is already asleep._


	24. Chapter 24

_Harry’s whole body feels like it’s on fire. His arms and his legs and his back and his chest and his throat and his face are all throbbing in pain so intense that Harry screams. Well, he tries to, anyways. All that comes out is a rasping whimper._

_“He’s awake.” a familiar voice rushes out, and there’s a flurry of sound throughout the room._

_It takes a minute for Harry to register all of it through the pain, but he gets there. He recognizes the sound of Gemma’s crying, and Louis’ snapping, and Liam’s soft murmurs that are meant to be comforting, even if he can’t actually pick out the words. He can suss out the sound of a heart monitor, and the squeak of non-slip shoes on the floor, and a voice over a speaker._

_“You’re okay, green eyes.” Liam’s voice says gently, as a hand slips over Harry’s. “Don’t try to speak. You’ve got a pretty nasty gash on your throat, and it’s still healing, but you’re going to be okay. We’re all here.”_

_“Ni-uhl?” Harry manages to get out, though it’s barely above a whisper and hurts so much that it makes tears spring into Harry’s eyes as he flutters them open._

_He doesn’t need to hear the answer though, because he can see everyone in the room, and the memories all flood back into him. Waking up to find Niall gone. Two days spent in the bottom of every bottle that he could get his hands on. Stealing his keys back from the fishbowl. The look on his mother’s face just before their cars swiped each other. His father’s rough jerk of the wheel that came too late. Gemma sobbing as she dragged him through the windshield and laid him out on the ground before he passed out._

_He remembers every second of it, and it hits him like a bullet._

_The beeping from the heart monitor increases rapidly as Harry feels his chest tighten. And he wants to ask what’s happened, to ask if his parents are okay, but he can read it in everyone’s eyes without having to hear a word. He can see the anguish written across his sister’s face as plainly as if it were printed on a page. Grief is an emotion that’s all too easy to see and read and interpret for him now. His parents aren’t okay, and that’s his fault._

_His heart pumps so hard that he can’t hear anything else for the sound of it beating in his ears, and his vision starts to go black around the edges. He’s not breathing. He knows it, and he knows that he needs to, but he can’t seem to actually make his lungs do the work._

_But maybe that’s good. Maybe it’s what he deserves. Maybe dying right here, right now, now that he knows that he killed his parents, is exactly what he deserves._

_It’s not what he gets though, because a stream of people rush into the room, pushing Gemma and Liam and Louis out while they lay Harry out flat and begin pumping his chest. And his lungs start back up after a few presses, and the band in his chest relaxes until he can breathe properly again, but he knows that it doesn’t really work. He may still be able to walk and talk and breathe, but he’s not alive. Not anymore._

_Morphine is Harry’s friend. It’s his best friend now. It’s numbing in more ways than one, and Harry reckons that he’d marry it if he could. It wouldn’t make for a very pretty bride, couldn’t fill out a dress properly, but that’s okay. Harry could just buy a lot of these lovely little hanging bags and strap them together until it works._

_Until it makes a little morphine person that Harry can plug into himself and use to forget everything else._

_“Harry, I know that you’re stoned, but please try to focus.” Gemma sighs, snapping her fingers in front of Harry’s face until his attention reverts back to her. “This is important. I’m planning a funeral, and I need your help.”_

_“Why– am I– not– in jail?” Harry rasps out. He hasn’t been able to speak a full sentence in one go yet. The doctors say that he’ll permanently damage his voice if he pushes it too hard. It’s mostly about the pain, though. He doesn’t care what happens to his voice, but he’s in enough pain without adding more on top of it._

_“Because jails don’t have doctors.” Gemma answers. “Why do you think, Harry? I’m not pressing charges for the accident.”_

_“I– killed– them.” Harry grunts._

_“And putting you in prison isn’t going to change that.” Gemmy says quietly. “We’ve both lost enough, Harry. I’m not looking to add anything more to that list, and that includes you. You’re my brother, and I love you. Now, will you please just help me pick the fucking flowers for this goddamned funeral?”_

_She blames him. She hasn’t said as much, but Harry can feel it. She hasn’t looked directly at him. Nobody has since the nurse came in yesterday and changed the bandage on his face, revealing the thick, jagged scar there. But Gemma hasn’t looked at him once since he woke up. Even before the scar was revealed, she hadn’t met his eyes. He doesn’t think that she probably ever will again._

_She blames him, but that’s good, because Harry blames himself. His parents’ deaths are on his hands, their blood is on his hands, and it’s never going to wash clean. He sees it coating them every time he closes his eyes, red and thick and bright._

_And he owes Gemma his life though. Not only because she saved his, but because he’s destroyed hers with his choices. Whatever she wants from him, she can have._

_“Lilies.” Harry tells her. “Mum– loved– them.”_

_“Thank you.” Gemma breathes out. “Now, about the invitations-”_

_“Go away.” Harry sighs for the tenth time in as many minutes. He really wishes that Liam would just go. It’s starting to hurt his throat._

_“No.” Liam repeats, looking down at his mobile. “The doctors have told us that you’ve barely been eating, and that you refuse to talk to anyone.”_

_“Did you– miss the– big scar– on my– throat?” Harry grumbles, the words feeling like gravel in his throat. “Makes– talking– and eating– a bit shit.”_

_“You need to talk a little, or your voice is going to take longer to heal, and malnutrition isn’t going to help anything.” Liam counters. “You know that–”_

_His mobile chirps, and he cuts himself off. He stands up out of his chair by Harry’s bedside, and says, “I’ll be right back. I just have to deal with something really quickly, and then I have a surprise for you.”_

_Harry really hopes the surprise is Liam leaving. That would make for a good surprise._

_It turns out not to be that. It turns out to be nothing of the sort. In fact, Liam shows up with two other people by his side when he returns._

_Surprise is an understatement. Harry never, ever thought for a second that these two would be standing in front of him again, and it feels like his whole body is folding in on itself when he starts to sob at the sight._

_They rush to his sides immediately, wrapping their arms around him when he begins to shake. And, really, Harry can’t decide what’s more painful. It could be the wails coming from his throat, or the arms pressing tightly against his scars, or the fact that these two are here when Harry has worked so hard to put them behind him._

_“How?” Harry chokes out between gasping breaths when he calms down enough to stop sobbing quite so hard._

_“Liam found us.” Ashton answers, brushing Harry’s fringe out of his eyes._

_“He called Zayn, and Zayn tracked us down and put us in contact with Liam.” Luke expands. “He explained everything to us, about Bobby dying, and Niall leaving, and the accident.”_

_“I’ll go ahead and leave you guys alone, then.” Liam mumbles from the doorway before closing it and disappearing._

_“Why?” Harry asks, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes in a vain attempt to stop the flow of tears. And he hasn’t cried since the first day that he woke up, hasn’t let himself be that weak or selfish, but he can’t stop it now. “Why– are you– here?”_

_“You almost died, Harry.” Luke says quietly. “Why wouldn’t we be here? As soon as Liam returned our call and told us everything, we came straight here.”_

_“But why?” Harry asks again. “I– ended it.”_

_“I told you that day that you leaving didn’t mean we were going to love you any less, babe.” Ashton says firmly. “I meant that.”_

_“Why didn’t you call us after Niall left, love?” Luke asks._

_“I just– didn’t.” Harry answers. “I– couldn’t.”_

_“We’d have come, babe.” Ashton says softly. “We would have come straight here, no questions asked.”_

_“I don’t– want– you here.” Harry mutters._

_It’s a lie, though, because he does. He wants them to stay right here with him forever, or to go back to London with them and stay there. He wants to let them love him, and love them back in return the way that he should have from the beginning._

_Because he does. He didn’t realize it before, because his love for Niall has always burned so bright that it outshone everything, but he does love these two. It’s more than just affection. It’s different than the love that he has for Niall, not quite as all-consuming, but it is love. He knows that now._

_He wants to be held in their arms and have them assure him that everything is going to be okay, but it isn’t. Nothing is going to be okay. Niall is gone, and Harry doesn’t know why, but he knows it’s his fault somehow. His parents are dead, and he definitely knows that that’s his fault. Luke and Ashton love him, and he loves them, but Harry destroys everything that he touches, and he won’t give that curse a chance to work on these two._

_He has no choice but to lie._

_“Harry, don’t say-” Luke starts._

_“I could– never– love you.” Harry growls. “Either– of you.”_

_And the words hurt to say, but not half as much as they must hurt to hear, judging by the pain that flashes over their faces. So Harry continues the onslaught, puts another nail in the coffin with a few spit out words._

_“Nothing– was ever– real. I was– just– using you.”_

_“You’re fucking lying!” Ashton says with gritted teeth, a snarl curling his lip even as tears well up in the corners of his eyes. “You don’t mean that!”_

_“I do.” Harry argues. “It was– just– sex. I lied– because– you were– good– in bed. You guys– had to– add feelings. I just– went along– with it– so that– I didn’t– have to– find a– new fuck.”_

_It’s more than he’s said all at once since he woke up two days ago, and it hurts more than anything he’s ever said out loud. And it’s not the pain in his throat, because he’s growing used to that. It’s the fact that he’s not ever lied to these two, but now he has to. He has no other option left, because he has to be alone. What he’s done is unforgivable, but Luke and Ashton offer him absolution. They offer him a life where he can put what he’s done behind him, and Harry doesn’t deserve to have that. Not ever._

_“Harry, stop.” Luke pleads. “We know this isn’t you.”_

_“The only reason that I ever slept with you is because you look a bit like Niall, Luke.” Harry says, forces his throat to push out the words without stopping like he’s needed to do so far. And it hurts him like hell, but not nearly as much as it hurts Luke. “I knew that you were the closest I’d ever get, so I used you. And, Ashton, you were just a package deal with Luke. I couldn’t actually care less about either of you.”_

_“Stop it!” Ashton yells as a fiery pain shoots through Harry’s cheek. He recognizes the sensation of being slapped, but he certainly wasn’t expecting it. He deserves it though, so he doesn’t fight back. There’s a sharp intake of air from all three of them, a moment suspended in time where nobody reacts, and then Ashton chokes out, “Harry, I– I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”_

_“You should go.” Harry says icily, turning back to Ashton with cold eyes._

_“Please don’t do this, Harry.” Luke breathes out, clinging tight to Harry’s hand until the younger lad pulls it away. “Please. Liam said that you’re getting out tomorrow. Stay for the funeral, and then come back to London with us. Don’t push us away just because you’re scared and angry and hurt. We love you, and we know that you care about us too, no matter what you’re saying.”_

_“Just fucking go!” Harry roars, the force of it feeling like the flames of Hell have erupted in his throat, but it’s enough to make them flinch away. It’s enough to make Liam worriedly throw open the door and take in the scene with wide, shocked eyes. “Liam, get them out of here, and then don’t come back.”_

_“We’re not leaving until you take it back.” Ashton spits out. “I refuse to believe anything you’re saying.”_

_“Believe it or not, it’s the truth either way.” Harry mutters. “I don’t want to see either of you ever again. I don’t care who contacts you, or what happens, but you don’t need to ever bother coming back here. Go, now, before I have you thrown out.”_

_“What’s wrong with you?” Luke asks weakly. “Harry, this isn’t like you at all. This isn’t the sweet boy we fell in love with.”_

_“Don’t you get it?” Harry scoffs. “He’s dead. I killed my parents, you two. Even if I did want anything to do with you, I’m not at all the same person I was the last time you saw me. There’s nothing for you here. Go back to London and find some new horny, naïve kid to invite into your bed. Maybe that one will care. Forget about me, because nothing is ever going to come from this.”_

_“If you ever get past whatever this is, then call us.” Luke says quietly. “We love you, Harry.”_

_“But I’ll never love you.” Harry says, not allowing a hint of the hesitation that’s taking ahold of him to creep into his voice. “Because you aren’t him. I told you that three and a half months ago, and I’m telling you again. You’re not Niall, so you will never, ever matter to me like he does. Stop clinging onto a fling like it means anything. It’s pathetic. I used you for sex, and you used me to pretend that your relationship isn’t stale. Nothing more, and nothing less.”_

_That’s it. That’s the ticket. That’s what he needed to say to snap whatever thread was still binding them to him. And it’s ruthless and untrue and the words are acid on his tongue, but it works. He’s found something unforgivable to tell them in his attempt to nip their love for him in the bud._

_“You little-” Ashton growls, lurching forward and fisting his hands in the collar of Harry’s flimsy hospital gown._

_The look in his eyes is fierce, is terrifying in a way that Harry never knew that it could be. Because Ashton is soft and sweet and gentle. He smiles wide and he laughs loud and he loves hard. He’s so much like Niall in those regards, and that might be why Harry fell for him in the first place, but he has to let him go. He has to let both of them go, because he will never, ever be good enough for them, but they won’t see that._

_“Let go of him. Now.” Liam’s voice rings through the room, strong and unwavering and clear._

_And Harry wants to tell him not to step in, wants to tell him not to do anything, because he doesn’t want Luke or Ashton any more hurt than they already are from his words, but he can’t. If he does, then it’ll countermand the bluff that Harry is making, and it has to succeed. It has to._

_“Don’t call us again.” Luke says, gripping Ashton’s hands and pulling them away from Harry. “Clearly you aren’t who we thought you were. If your face weren’t split open, you could be an actor with how good your performance was over those five months. Goodbye, Harry.”_

_“Finally.” Harry mutters._

_He stays stoic as the other two exit the room under Liam’s watchful eye, but the door is barely closed before his mask breaks. And if he thought that it hurt to cry before, it’s nothing compared to the pain that’s proliferating through every part of him right now until he’s not sure that he’ll ever stop hurting again._


	25. Chapter 25

“Can we pretend that the storm is still going strong enough to justify staying in the cottage?” Harry sighs when he exits the bathroom after his morning ritual to find Niall quietly munching on toast and petting Amanda.

“Um, it’s stopped raining, so I doubt it, pet.” Niall chuckles. “But you probably have another hour or so before the fog clears enough to make it okay for you to leave, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t. At all.” Harry grumbles, taking the cup of tea that Niall offers him and sitting down. He really should get dressed, because it’s actually kind of chilly, but wearing nothing more than a damp towel is just one more way of dragging his feet to avoid this get-together. “I need days to prepare for seeing Gemma, and that’s under normal circumstances. This is not a normal circumstance.”

“You make it sound like you’re telling her that you have cancer or something.” Niall mutters. “We don’t have to tell her that we’re giving it a go if you aren’t ready. It’s fine.”

“No, it wouldn’t be.” Harry says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell her, Niall. You know that. I just have to figure out how to explain everything. I haven’t even let her say your name around me for two years. You’ve literally been a taboo.”

“Then we don’t have to tell her.” Niall offers again.

“I want to tell her.” Harry says firmly. “This is important to me, and I want to tell her.”

“Then why does it matter that this is awkward?” Niall asks. “Why does it matter at all what she thinks about us being together?”

“Because she’s all I’ve had, Niall!” Harry snaps. “My parents are dead, and the rest of my family rejected me after I killed them, and then they rejected Gemma as well, when she chose not to press charges for the accident! She runs the family business herself, because I can’t help her! She’s been here for me when I had nobody else! She was here for me when you weren’t! I owe her everything, because she’s the only person who’s cared about me at all for two years, even though I took our parents from her!”

Harry’s voice drops down to a whisper before he finishes with, “It matters what she thinks about us because, when you leave me all over again, then she’ll be all that I’ll have left again.”

Niall doesn’t say anything. Not a sound exits his lips as he stands out of his seat, carrying Amanda with him as he makes for the door to the bedroom. He must be getting the umbrella.

So, that’s it. One fight, and Niall is ready to give up on them. Harry isn’t actually surprised. He was expecting it eventually, expecting Niall to realize that Harry’s not worth all of this and break things off between them, but he had hoped that it might take a bit longer. He’d hoped that Niall’s limit would be more than two days. He isn’t surprised, but he is more than a bit disappointed.

The first tears start leaking out of his tightly shut eyes as he hears the door closing. They don’t make it far though, their progression stopped on his cheekbones by the rough pads of thumbs wiping them away, and Harry whimpers at the sensation when Niall smoothes over his scar.

“Hush now. None of that.” Niall murmurs. “You’ve cried more than enough times because of me already.”

“Why are we even bothering?” Harry breathes out. “We both know how this is going to end. The storm is over, and, when we leave this cottage, everything we’ve been caught up in will dissipate. You’ll leave again once you aren’t forced to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere, pet.” Niall says gently, tilting Harry’s head up. “I promise you that.”

“You’ve broken the last two promises that you made me.” Harry mutters. “You promised not to call me ‘Haz’, but you did it anyways. You promised we’d talk in the morning, but you left. How can I trust this one?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Niall repeats, climbing into Harry’s lap to straddle over his thighs. He moves one hand back from Harry’s face, threading his fingers into the damp hair that’s hanging so heavy, and anchors the other one on the base of Harry’s neck.

The kiss is strong, is hard and heavy and stinging and bruising. It’s all passion and fire and lightning pinging through every nerve ending from the top of Harry’s scalp to the tips of his toes. It speaks volumes through the connection, gives a dissertation on love in the words of a language that Harry never knew until Niall’s lips touched his.

“I am yours.” Niall whispers against Harry’s mouth. “Heart and mind and body and soul. All of me belongs to you, and I’ll not leave you ever again unless that’s what you want or need of me.”

“Don’t say that unless you mean it.” Harry pleads.

“I’m yours.” Niall repeats without any hesitation. “I love you, and I wouldn’t give you up for anything ever again. That was the worst mistake of my life, and I’ll never repeat it. Unless you tell me to walk away, I won’t. I swear that on my life.

“So we can tell Gemma, or we don’t have to. That doesn’t matter to me. But don’t hold back because you think that she’s all you’ll have. You’ll have me for as long as you want me. You’ll always have Gemma, and Liam and Louis too, if you’ll give them the chance, but you’ll have me as well. You’ll have me, Harry, because I’m yours. Every piece of me is yours if you’ll have it.”

“You can’t say that when you’re wearing another man’s ring.” Harry mutters.

“I don’t wear this because I have feelings like that for him or anything, Harry.” Niall sighs, taking the chain out of his shirt and wrapping his hand around the pair of rings. “I wear it to remind myself of what happened. I wear it so that I never forget that a good man died because of me.”

“Like my scar.” Harry breathes out. “They could have fixed it, or at least made it not so obvious, but I wouldn’t let them. I need the reminder.”

“It also helps remind me that I’m alive, though.” Niall murmurs, dropping the rings to fall back against his chest. He moves his hands back to Harry’s cheeks and presses their foreheads together. “We’re alive, pet. We both survived things that we shouldn’t have, things that we’ve both sometimes wished that we hadn’t. I’m not a religious man, but I believe that that happened for a reason. We lived for a reason, and that was so that we could be together. It was so that I could be yours.”

“What if it was just so that we’d have to feel the pain of what we’ve done?” Harry asks. “So that we’d have to live with our sins weighing on our soul?”

“I don’t think that’s it.” Niall hums. “I’m not saying that these things won’t stay with us for the rest of our lives, because they will, but that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t try to be happy as well. We can still be happy, pet. It may not feel like it, or like we deserve to, but I know that Bressie and Anne and Des wouldn’t want us to be miserable for the rest of our lives.”

“Niall, if this is all just you trying to get me not to feel guilty, then-” Harry starts.

“It’s not.” Niall cuts him off. “I swear it’s not. I want the opportunity to make you happy, Harry. I want to be with you the way that we always should have been. It has nothing to do with changing you, because I love you however you are. I’ve loved you in one way or another from the moment we met. I loved you when we were kids and you never smiled, and when you finally let your guard down to let me see everything inside, and when I was pretending that I could ever really get over you, and when you made love to me that night, and when you tried to break my jaw in the lighthouse, and when you woke up in my arms this morning. I’ve always loved you, and I always will. I’ll always be yours.”

He draws in a deep breath, starts to say more, but Harry cuts him off with another kiss, wrapping his arms around Niall’s torso to draw him as close as possible before he mumbles, “Shut up. You’re going to make me cry, and I really don’t want to cry right now.”

“What do you want then, pet?” Niall asks languidly between kisses. The question drips off his lips like caramel, enticing and sweet and maybe a bit bad for you, but Harry couldn’t care less. 

Niall is definitely bad for him. That much Harry can acknowledge, because Niall holds a kind of sway over Harry that isn’t healthy or good or safe. No, Niall definitely isn’t good for Harry when he has the power to destroy him with a single word or act.

But Niall is also the light in Harry’s darkness. He’s the one beacon of hope in a world that Harry felt slipping further from his grasp every day. He’s everything that Harry has ever wanted, ever needed, and he’s the only chance that Harry has at ever having someone be able to understand him.

So Harry doesn’t hesitate to answer, “You. I want you.”

“What are you waiting for, then?” Niall smirks, biting lightly at Harry’s bottom lip and rolling it between his teeth. 

“Just need to know that you want me too.” Harry answers when Niall releases his prize.

“More than fucking anything.” Niall breathes out, grinding down in Harry’s lap.

And– Wow. Harry had forgotten how good that feels. He’d forgotten what it feels like to have a warm body in your arms, to have someone’s skin pressed against you. He’d forgotten how it feels to touch and be touched, to want and to be wanted. To taste and hear and see and smell and feel another person like this, to take them in with every one of his senses until they’re all that his mind can hold within it.

But it’s more than that with Niall. It’s more than just the physical sensations of passion and desperation and pleasure. It’s the intimacy of it. It’s the way that they fit together more perfectly than Harry has ever had with anyone before. It’s the way that their fingers lace so easily and their bodies slot together seamlessly and their lips fit together like a dream.

“I need to hear you say it, Niall.” Harry whispers, pulling back from the kiss before it goes too far. “I can’t worry like I did after I remembered the last time. I can’t have any doubts afterwards that you wanted me, or think that you were just going along with it. And, if you don’t want it, then I can handle that, but I need to know now that this isn’t just one sided. I need to know that there’s no hesitation from you before anything can happen, and I need to know that I’m not just a replacement for him. For Bressie.”

“You’re not.” Niall says firmly. “Pet, you mean so much more to me than he ever did, than anyone ever has. Every night for two years, you’re all I ever dreamed about. Coming back here and being with you is all that I wanted. You’re all that I’ve ever really wanted. I wanted what happened that night, and I want this now, but I don’t want to push you. If we’re moving too fast for you, then we can stop.”

“You asked me what I want, but what do you want, Niall?” Harry asks.

“You. Just you.” Niall answers without even a hint of uncertainty in his voice. 

Their eyes are locked, and he searches as deep as he can, but he can’t find a trace of doubt. And he almost wishes he could, because Niall seems so sure about all of this, about them, and Harry still isn’t. He wants it, wants this, but he doesn’t have the same unwavering confidence that Niall does. It’s like Niall knows for a fact that everything will work out, but, when Harry looks to the future, all he sees is fog.

And that’s appropriate in a way, because fog will most assuredly be a part of his future. Fog and sea birds and too many stairs and a new set of journals and taking notes on weather patterns, because Niall coming back doesn’t change those things. It doesn’t change his constants or what he’s doing with his life. But maybe, just maybe, it’ll change some others.

Maybe he won’t always have to wake up alone, anymore.

“Where have you gone?” Harry hears Niall whisper, feels the press of their foreheads and the rough pads of the blond’s thumbs running along the line of his cheekbones.

“I want you to be a constant.” Harry breathes out, opening up his eyes to look up into Niall’s. “That’s the only way that I can move forward with this. And that doesn’t mean that we have to jump straight into something serious, or that we have to spend all our time together, but I need to know that this isn’t just a passing thing. I need to know that I’m more than just the option that’s available to you. I need to know that I’m more than just ‘sometimes’ or ‘for now’.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you?” Niall hums, pressing a light kiss to the crinkled skin between Harry’s eyebrows. “I’m hoping for a lot more than ‘sometimes’ or ‘for now’. I’m hoping for ‘always’.”

“You could destroy me, you know.” Harry tells him. “I didn’t think that would ever be possible again. I didn’t think that anything was capable of breaking me more than I’ve already broken, but it is. You are. You could wreck me.”

“And you could wreck me.” Niall returns, murmurs the words so close to Harry’s lips that it feels like he breathes them in with his sharp inhale.

His lungs fill with it, with the intoxicating promise of their mutually assured destruction, and he lets it settle there. He lets it hit his bloodstream and course through him until the awareness that Niall is just as done in by him as he is by Niall has reached every bit of him. Until it’s been pumped all the way back around to his heart, and he can’t fight the power that that knowledge has over him.

It breaks whatever leash he’s put on himself, destroys his internal limiter, and he gives into it without holding back.

The distance to the bed is short, made shorter by Harry’s eager strides, but it’s enough to gather sufficient momentum that the drop down on top of the mattress with Niall on top of him knocks the air out of both of their chests in a breathless giggle. It quickly gets lost to the atmosphere as they refocus, their lips meeting in the middle of the flurry of activity that comes with stripping Niall of the shirt that he’d nicked from Harry’s drawers while the brunet was showering.

And Niall’s left in nothing more than a borrowed pair of boxer-briefs, and Harry is only wearing a towel, but it’s still too much. It’s far too much of a barrier between their bodies when there doesn’t need to be one. It’s obscene. Offensive.

Niall squeals against Harry’s lips as he flips them over, and whines when he lifts up and away, but quickly gets the message. He lifts his legs up to help as Harry slides the blasphemous fabric off of his legs, flinging it to the opposite corner of the cottage without looking. He really doesn’t give a fuck where it lands. Personally, he’d rather never see them again if they’re going to keep trying to create space between his skin and Niall’s.

Niall is just as ravenous, barely letting his legs hit the mattress again before he’s sitting up and tearing at the towel wrapped around Harry’s waist with greedy fingers and equal fervor. This time it’s Niall who rolls them over, grabbing Harry around the waist and pivoting to pin him to the bed as soon as they’ve both been bared.

It’s only then that Harry fully realizes just how much Niall has changed physically to match his emotional maturation. He finally takes in how Niall’s shoulders have broadened and his arms have become more defined and his chest has filled out. He had a thin patch of hair before, settled above his sternum and contrasting beautifully with his pale skin, but it’s expanded now, taken up much more space as if to say, ‘I’ve grown. I’m a man.’

And what a beautiful fucking man he is, too. His face has become sharper, more masculine, but it’s also still soft and cherubic like the boy that Harry met all those years ago. His hair is a different shade of blond than it was when he left, more reserved, and it suits him well. He’s grown into himself, and he wears it well.

“Like what you see?” Niall asks, hums, as he sits back on Harry’s hips. “I can give you a minute if you need to take it all in.”

“I could spend forever taking it in, but our track record doesn’t vouch for your patience.” Harry counters with a smirk.

“Our track record doesn’t speak for your stamina either.” Niall fires back, his own smirk not faltering a bit. It’s not meant to be demeaning though, not with the playful mirth that’s shining so bright in Niall’s eyes. “But you don’t see me teasing you for it.”

“Point taken.” Harry chuckles.

“So let’s just decide that, for now, the track record is off the record, and just focus on this moment, yeah?” Niall muses, leaning down and pressing the length of his body against Harry’s. “I don’t want it to go away permanently, because it mattered a lot, and it still does, but I don’t think either of us want that to influence this, do we?”

“No, I don’t suppose we would.” Harry murmurs, placing his hands on the small of Niall’s back. He’s still got the same dimples there that he’s always had, that Harry’s always been a bit obsessed with, and it’s a nice reminder. Niall has changed, yes, both physically and mentally, but he’s still the same, too. He’s still Niall.

“You can really touch me, you know.” Niall whispers, leans down to press the words into the sensitive spot just below Harry’s ear. It sends a shiver down Harry’s spine, makes him gasp breathlessly into the air as Niall brushes his lips over the skin to add, “You haven’t got to hold back like we’re fourteen and we’ve never done this with anyone before. You haven’t got to be chaste-like.”

“It’s been a long time.” Harry mumbles. “I– I never thought that this would happen with anyone ever again, let alone you.”

“It’s like riding a bike.” Niall chuckles. “Except, instead of a bike, it’s a di-”

“Do not finish that sentence.” Harry snorts.

“-ck.” Niall finishes, taking Harry’s earlobe between his teeth. 

The sharp bite he gives stings, but Niall doesn’t soothe over it. He leaves it as is, in favor of meeting Harry’s lips again. Harry can’t even feel it after a few seconds, far too caught up in Niall to notice any kind of pain.

“Do you want me to take the reins?” Niall asks, pulling away just enough to get the words out. “Ease you back into things?”

“Please.” Harry breathes out immediately, thankful for the offer. 

Because he’s done this a lot, but, suddenly, he feels overwhelmed. Niall has always been something that he’s denied himself, the idea of them was too forbidden to let himself linger on it for long. He always tried to push it out of his mind, to bury it, because thinking about the two of them tangled together like this felt like more than he could allow himself to hope for.

And he knows that it’s happened before, that he’s felt sweat slickened slide of their skin together, felt Niall tight and hot and perfect around him, but that isn’t this. This isn’t the two of them succumbing to alcohol and passion. They’ll both remember this moment. Whatever happens from here, this moment is going to be a part of both of their stories. It’s going to be real.

What’s happening between them is real.

“I’ve got you.” Niall murmurs, cupping Harry’s cheek and drawing him back into another soft, quick kiss. “I’ll take care of you, pet.”

He whimpers at that, at the breathy way that Niall says that word, because it feels different this time. It’s laced full of affection still, yes. That much hasn’t changed. But it’s rougher, more gravelly and enticing. It digs into him like the fingernails that he presses into Niall’s skin as the blond strings kisses along his jaw, and it feels even more intimate now than it has since Niall explained why he decided to call Harry that.

“Let me know if I do anything that you don’t want, yeah?” Niall requests, whispers the words into Harry’s ear as his fingers dip down to trace the cut of Harry’s collarbone. “We’ll only go as far as you’re comfortable with.”

And, really, Harry doesn’t think that he could possibly be uncomfortable with Niall’s fingers and lips on his skin like this. It’s soothing and shocking at the same time. Everywhere that their skin meets, it’s like he’s on fire, but he loves it. And he’s hot, so fucking hot, but Niall isn’t going to let him burn. 

Or, if he does, at least they’ll burn together.

Niall shifts, lifts himself up onto one elbow while he spreads Harry’s legs to settle between them. They slot together so well, so perfectly, and Harry’s brain can’t quite process it. He doesn’t even know what’s happening with his body in the moment. 

Everything in his brain is static, too confused by the plethora of stimuli to even make an attempt to keep up. Niall’s fingertips are running over the skin of his chest in feather light touches that are sending his head reeling. His nails catch Harry’s nipple, and he ruts mindlessly up against Niall’s hip. He’s got the scent and sight and sounds and sensations of Niall filling up his ears and eyes and lungs and pores, and it’s too much. It’s way too much, but Harry never wants it to stop.

He’s got Niall’s lips and teeth and tongue working over a focused spot at the edge of his collarbones, at the bottom of his neck, and he feels like he’s going to explode and implode at the same time. Like he’s a star that’s flaring out, but one that hasn’t quite decided whether it wants to go out with a bang or a whimper.

Niall makes his way down slowly, seemingly picking spots at random to darken with his mouth on the march he’s leading. And what a fucking force to be reckoned with he makes. He’s got thirty two little white soldiers, sharp and talented, two rosy pink healers, brilliant and soft, and a genius commander, strong and masterful, that all add up to an unmatched army of one.

And Harry is safely tucked away inside his cottage, but, when Niall takes him into his mouth, he feels like he’s standing on the very edge of the cliff outside of his door in the middle of the fiercest storm ever to be born.

He’s not ready to drop off the edge, though.

“No.” he whimpers, squirming against the mattress, whines when Niall pulls up and off and away with a panicked look painting his blanched face.

“Sorry!” Niall rushes out. “Sorry! Sorry, fuck! I didn’t mean to take it farther than you were ready for!”

“No.” Harry repeats, softer this time. He catches Niall by the wrist before he can successfully scramble off of the bed like he’s attempting. “Feels too good. It’s been too long. I just– I don’t want it to be over too soon.”

“Oh.” Niall breathes out, shoulders sagging in relief. “Thank god. I thought I’d done something wrong.”

“Can you come back up here?” Harry asks softly, scared that he’s not offering enough for the invitation to be enticing. They’ve already been damned by the lack of supplies in the cottage. He knows that he should be grateful to take whatever Niall is willing to give him, but he has to ask, at the very least.

“Of course.” Niall murmurs, quickly moving back up the bed and draping his body over Harry’s again. “Whatever you want.”

“It’s not just about me.” Harry mumbles. “I want it to be good for you too.”

“All that takes is being with you.” Niall whispers as he fits their bodies together. “What makes it good for me is knowing that you’re okay with what’s happening. That’s all I need.”

His lips meet Harry’s once the brunet nods, and he shifts until their cocks are lined up against each other. And it’s a bit juvenile, a bit simple and tame and unfulfilling as far as these things can be, but– God– if it doesn’t make Harry feel like the world has stopped spinning and flung him into space to careen among the stars.

His hands find the dimples at the base of Niall’s spine again as he keens against the blond’s lips. Niall lifts himself up just a bit on one arm, and then snakes the other one down between their bodies to wrap his hand around the both of them.

Harry moans shamelessly at the tight squeeze, at the mind blowing feeling of Niall thrusting down against him, and drops his hands down lower to grab at the full swell of Niall’s arse.

“That’s it.” Niall grunts against Harry’s lips. “You can touch me. I like it when you touch me.”

And Harry doesn’t know how Niall’s forming words right now, because he can’t get anything out except moans and whimpers. Not when he feels like he’s being pulled apart at all the invisible seams that hold him together. He tries to respond, tries to tell Niall that he likes touching him, but all that comes out is a low groan that makes Niall smirk against his mouth.

“Do you like it when I touch you, pet?” Niall asks roughly, nipping at Harry’s swollen, sensitive lips.

And Harry knows better than to try and talk now, but he can barely even manage the jerky nods that he gives in response. His whole body is taut, tensed like a rubber band about to snap.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” Niall growls out. “Can’t believe how lucky I am to be the one that gets to love you.”

“Niall– Fuck!” Harry screams, finding his voice just as he plunges over the edge from the push that Niall’s words give him.

He thrusts up wildly in Niall’s grip as he cums, as he comes undone, and it feels like the entire universe drops out from under him as he digs his nails into Niall’s skin and surges forward to crush a bruising kiss against Niall’s lips.

Niall’s working himself when Harry comes back down into his body, furiously chasing his own bit of heaven now that he’s let Harry find his. That’s not good, though. It’s not right or fair, so Harry lends a hand.

And it gets coated in his own mess when he reaches between them, thick and viscid and warm, but that helps smooth the slide when his hand takes over for Niall’s. Niall groans against Harry’s lips, plunges his tongue inside his mouth for Harry to meet with his own as his own body begins to tense.

Harry waits until he knows that Niall is close, and then moves the hand that’s still cupping Niall’s arse to the cleft between his cheeks and runs the rough pad of his dry finger in a circle around the blond’s hole.

“God! Harry!” Niall chokes out as he spurts over their torsos, shuddering as Harry works him through it before collapsing and pushing Harry down into the mattress with a hard snog.

“Who knew– hand-jobs– could be– so intense?” Niall pants out as he rolls onto his back.

“Severely underrated.” Harry agrees with a weak nod.

And maybe it’s just because Harry hasn’t even touched himself for over two years, let alone had anyone else touch him. Or it could be that this is the first time since the accident that Harry hasn’t felt like a monster because of the scars that litter his skin whenever they aren’t covered up. It could even just be as simple as it being the two of them, together and sober and eager, that made things feel so amazing. Whatever it is, Harry feels like he’s fucking glowing. He’s fairly certain of it, actually.

He’s also fairly certain that his legs won’t even work right now.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Niall murmurs, leaning over to peck a quick kiss to Harry’s lips before rolling over and climbing out of the bed. He heads into the bathroom, and returns a minute later, cleaned up and holding a flannel. Harry reaches to take it, but Niall pulls his hand back and asks, “Do you mind if I do it?”

“Be my guest.” Harry says with as much of a shrug as he can manage when his whole body doesn’t want to move yet. “Don’t know why you’d want to though.”

“I just do.” Niall murmurs, running the warm, damp cloth through the mess that they’ve both created on Harry’s stomach. “I like taking care of you, even something simple like this. And I know that you don’t need me to take care of you, and that you’re fine on your own, and that whole spiel, but I like doing it anyways.”

“I don’t think you even know how not to do it.” Harry says quietly, spreading out his fingers when Niall lifts his hand by the wrist. “You’ve been taking care of people since before your balls dropped.”

“Lovely way of putting that.” Niall snorts. “You’re still such a wordsmith.”

“You resented Bobby at the end.” Harry mutters, ignoring the criticism. “You resented him for being someone that you had to take care of. I don’t want that to happen between us. I don’t want you to get drunk and go to Liam or Louis or someone else down the line and tell them that you hate me because you feel like you have to take care of me. I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to take care of me at all, actually.”

“It’s not obligation, pet.” Niall says softly, setting the flannel on the desk and climbing back into the bed over Harry. And Harry wants to get up and go set it to soak in the sink, wants to roll his eyes at Niall’s slovenliness, but his attention is quickly drawn back to Niall when the blond settles down and tangles their limbs together. “I can’t give you everything that you deserve, because you deserve the whole damn world, but I want to give you what I can, even if that’s just doing things like cooking you food that isn’t burnt, or cleaning up our jizz, or holding you while you sleep away your post-orgasm laziness.”

“We’ve got to meet Gemma.” Harry points out.

“She can wait another hour while you catch a kip.” Niall chuckles. “Go ahead and sleep, pet. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”


	26. Chapter 26

_“You don’t look like you’re having a very happy Christmas at all.” Gemma hums, sidling up next to Harry where he’s hugging the wall._

_She looks glamorous, as she always does at these things. Harry is still getting used to her having stripped the color out of her hair, removing the purples and pinks and blues which suited her personality so well. She’s just blond now, which looks good on her, but seems so reserved after years of pastel experimentation. It compliments her dress, though, floor length and red ‘in celebration of the holiday’. She looks elegant and beautiful and every bit the charming scion of the Styles family that she is._

_It doesn’t help Harry’s mood at all._

_“It’s not Christmas yet.” Harry mutters, downing the rest of his drink. He’d stopped using eggnog as a pretext about three drinks back, and is just sticking to straight brandy at this point. He looks at his watch, takes a moment to remember which hand is which, because who even uses fucking watches anymore besides his fucking father, and adds, “Not for another twelve minutes.”_

_“Oh boy, you are going to be in for a rough morning.” Gemma chuckles. “Your breath smell like a distillery.”_

_“I’ll be fine.” Harry scoffs. “I know how to deal with a hangover.”_

_“Fuck the hangover. I meant dad.” Gemma smirks. “He’s got that vein in his forehead bulging because you’re being all mopey and secluded instead of using your charms on the guests.”_

_“Let it bulge.” Harry grins. “What’ll he do? Take back the socks he gets me every year? He can’t hold my trust fund over me like both the carrot and the rod anymore. I’ve already drained it into multiple other accounts. The money is mine, and no longer has anything to do with him.”_

_“I’m not looking for a fight, bug.” Gemma sighs. “I just wanted to know what’s got you looking like a storm cloud hanging over this party. You’re normally such a fun drunk. Especially when Niall is around.”_

_“I told him that I’d keep an eye on Bobby tonight so that he didn’t have to.” Harry shrugs._

_And he did keep an eye on Bobby, but Bobby has been passed out in Harry’s bed for the last hour. Harry still hasn’t joined the party since then. He’s more than content to stay on the outskirts, watching, rather than pretending to have any interest in any of these people who matter to his parents._

_Besides, Niall has been dashing off all night to talk to that new guy of his that he’s been flirting with lately, and it’s a lot easier for Harry to keep himself in check when he’s avoiding contact with everyone. Less chance he’ll go ballistic and dump a drink over Niall’s head, or grab any one of the dozen people here who’ve hit on him and fuck their brains out very audibly in a closet nearby as a method to keep his mind busy, or strip out of this damn suit and dance on a table just to watch that vein in their father’s forehead explode._

_“Since when do you take on the role of ‘party mum’?” Gemma asks._

_“He deserves a night of fun.” Harry explains. “He’s been so busy trying to keep up with school that he hasn’t had a chance to let loose in a while.”_

_“And you could have paid off any one of the staff to do that for you.” Gemma counters. “So what’s really got you holding back tonight?”_

_And, really, there are so many reasons. School is torture. Niall keeps flirting with some guy that Harry hated from the second that he saw him. It’s getting harder and harder with each passing one night stand to push aside his feelings for his best friend. And he just– Fuck, he wants to be that guy, the one who’s brave enough to tell Niall that he’s in love with him, but he isn’t, and it’s fucking him up. It’s making him feel like the same pathetic, weak, scared kid that Niall found reading on the beach. He’s almost twenty, but he feels ten again, and it’s killing him._

_Instead he settles for telling Gemma, “Just don’t really feel like partying tonight.”_

_“Did you know that you’re a really shite liar?” Gemma hums. “Like– Like truly horrible at it.”_

_“I’m not lying.” Harry insists. And he’s not. He doesn’t feel like letting go, because he doesn’t know what all will come out once he’s done that. Once he stops holding back, anything is liable to come pouring out of his mouth, and that’s just too damn risky._

_“Come on.” Gemma huffs, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him through the house._

_She makes appropriate apologies to everyone that they bump into, but she doesn’t stop barging through the room, nor holding onto Harry with a grip like a vice, despite the fact that he’s going with her without protesting it. He knows better by now than to fight Gemma when she’s got an idea in her head or that look in her eye. She’s a force to be reckoned with at the best of times, and an unstoppable juggernaut at the worst._

_They end up in the study, which is really more of a second library, honestly. The study has booze, though, which is what Gemma must have been going for, since she only releases him to go and pour each of them a glass of their father’s whiskey. And Harry has never really been one to mix his liquors, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and he has a feeling that he’s going to be desperate soon enough. Gemma’s still got that look in her eye, that fierce determination that makes her head harder than diamond, and Harry knows he’s well fucked if she wants to know something, because she’ll pry it out of him come hell or high water._

_“Talk.” Gemma demands, directing him into a chair and taking the one opposite from him._

_And, it’s funny how, under the right circumstances, a place of relief can feel like an interrogation room. The hardness of Gemma’s voice can turn the most comforting of chairs, molded to his body after so many years’ worth of staying situated right into it, into stone and spikes. The unwavering intensity of her eyes can make him sweat like he’s got a spotlight fixed on him. It’s no more than a single word, but Harry already feels like spewing out the secrets that he’s locked deep, deep down so that nobody can ever find them._

_She’s so much like their parents, has their mother’s intuition and their father’s power, all wrapped up in a package that’s both and neither at the same time. She got everything that Harry didn’t, the brains and the charm and the courage. She’s the firstborn, and she came out to be exactly who their parents wanted. Harry is the black sheep, weak and scared and inept._

_“I think I’m in love with Niall!” Harry blurts out when Gemma’s eyes narrow by just a fraction. “Actually, I know I am, because I have been for a while, and I actually think it’s maybe been forever, but I’ve only known for two years, and it’s fucking torture, because he doesn’t even notice me like that, and he’s probably going to start dating this guy, and-”_

_“Stop talking.” Gemma cuts him off, leaning forward and sealing her hand over his mouth to stop the deluge of words pouring out of Harry’s mouth like a bottle of Chianti that was uncorked just to dump over someone’s head. So Harry does stop talking, presses his lips together in a thin line, and bites the inside of his cheeks for good measure. “I’m going to take my hand away, you’re going to slam down your drink, and then try again, alright? Because you’re talking way too fast, like– like faster than I even thought you were capable of, and I can’t keep up.”_

_That sounds like a good idea in Harry’s fuzzy mind. The drinking part, that is. He does exactly that, swallows his whole glass in one go, and then steals Gemma’s without paying any mind to her squawk of protest, and drinks that one too. And, God, does it burn. It burns and burns and burns until it doesn’t anymore, and Harry feels like the inside of his throat is raw, but not from the whiskey. Whiskey doesn’t do this to him._

_It’s his confession that has him feeling like he’s going down in flames, because it’s the first time he’s been brave enough to say the words out loud. Even to himself. That’s why they call it liquid courage, though, right? Because it breaks down the parts of you that are too scared to say what you want to say without the drowning of your inhibitions._

_And he quite likes the sound of those words on his tongue. ‘Love’ and ‘Niall’ feel like they belong in the same sentence. Like every book could just be a combination of those two words, over and over and over, and they’d all be masterpieces._

_Maybe Harry is a little drunker than he thought._

_“I’m in love with Niall.” Harry admits again, rolling the words around in his mouth because he enjoys the sweetness of them, even with the bitter aftertaste that forms when he adds, “I’m in love with him, but he’s falling for this guy who’s only going to break his heart. And I told him that’s what’s going to happen. I told him, but he doesn’t care. He wants to be with him anyways, and not with me, and I don’t want to be at this party. He’s having fun, and he’s talking to that Zeke guy, or whatever his name is, and I love him, but he doesn’t love me.”_

_“Does he know that you love him?” Gemma questions, astute as ever._

_“No.” Harry says quietly, shaking his head. “Only you. I can’t tell him. I can’t lose him. He’s– He’s Niall, you know? He’s my Niall, and he’d try to pretend everything was okay, but it never would be again. He’ll never love me like I love him, because I’m just a brother to him. That’s what he said to me, you know. Just a couple hours ago. He called me his brother. He said I was a better brother to him than Greg.”_

_“Are you sure this isn’t just the alcohol talking, bug?” Gemma asks carefully._

_“I wanna marry him, Gems.” Harry whispers. “I wanna hold his hand all the time. I want to get a cat with him, and fight over what to name it, because he’ll pick something stupid like ‘Fluffy’ or ‘Neymar’. I want to write him awful poetry that he pretends to like because it’s the thought that counts. I want him to be the last thing that I see every night when I go to sleep, and the first thing I see every morning when I wake up. I love him.”_

_“Oh, bug.” Gemma sighs. “You’ve got it proper bad, don’t you?”_

_“He’s my knight in shining armor.” Harry says quietly, shutting his eyes and gripping hard around his glasses in each of his hands. “He’s like sunshine. He’s my best friend and my hero and I love him so much that I feel like I’m going to throw up.”_

_“You’re obliterated.” Gemma snorts, helping Harry up out of his chair after taking the glasses from him. “Let’s get you up to bed, yeah?”_

_“Bobby’s in my bed.” Harry tells her once they get out to the main room and his memory provides that little bit of information._

_“Oh hell.” Gemma huffs. “Stay right here. I’ll go figure out which rooms are free, and then I’ll take you to one, alright?”_

_“Yes, ma’am.” Harry giggles, giving her a salute that’s more really just him slapping himself in the forehead._

_“Bloody pissed.” Gemma mutters, leaning Harry up against a column and heading off in search of someone or something that can tell her which of the rooms in the house aren’t occupied by visitors for the night._

_His eyes find Niall easily enough, trying to teach Liam how to waltz, even though he’d barely been able to remember a thing during the lessons that Harry had given him a few years ago. It’s not going very well, but they look like they’re having fun, and nobody seems to mind. Even Louis looks amused, which is weird, since he’s normally so possessive when it comes to Liam._

_Then again, his nose and ears are quite red, so he’s probably plastered._

_“Have you had a good time tonight, bug?” comes a familiar voice, accompanied by the gait of the only woman that Harry has ever known to sound gentle in heels, rather than intimidating._

_“Yeah.” Harry lies, looking over to his mother. And Gemma says that Harry is a bad liar, but the smile that he puts on seems to be convincing enough for his mum, because she returns it beautifully. “How about you?”_

_Anne’s only response is to give another smile and tap the side of her nose, which makes Harry giggle. She doesn’t enjoy these functions any more than Harry does, but the both of them know better than to say it. And it’s not that Anne doesn’t enjoy being a hostess, because she does, but for things like this, she prefers intimate gatherings. Christmas Eve is supposed to be for family, not family and one hundred and fifty other guests._

_“Niall seems to be enjoying himself.” Anne says just after Harry’s eyes have been drawn back to the blond._

_“He always does.” Harry nods. “No matter where he is, or what’s going on around him, he’ll find a way to enjoy himself. As long as there’s alcohol and a dance floor, he can even be content at ‘a stuffy do like this, where everyone’s wallets are bigger than their hearts.’”_

_“That sounds more like you than Niall.” Anne hums._

_“No, it was Niall, of course. I’d never say anything like that about you and dad’s income source– I mean– friends.” Harry grins._

_“Cheeky.” Anne chuckles._

_“What’s it like to be married?” Harry asks suddenly, as the thought hits him of what he’d told Gemma._

_“Like spending every day with your very best friend. It’s like knowing someone else even better than you know yourself.” Anne answers quietly, thoughtfully. “And sometimes you bicker and fight and don’t like each other very much, but, at the end of the day, you know you’ll always love each other.”_

_“I don’t think I’ll ever have that.” Harry admits in a whisper._

_“Just hold in there, bug. It’ll happen eventually.” Anne tells him, stroking her hand comfortingly over his shoulder. “I just know it. This one will be worth the wait.”_

_And Harry hears her, but doesn’t really listen. His whole body is attuned to Niall, like he’s got a compass in his forehead that always let him know where Niall is and how close he’s getting, and the damn thing is pointing like crazy as Niall makes his way quickly across the room._

_He’s wearing a dopey grin that fits far better than his suit, wide and sparkling, even with his braces. He’s getting them off soon, and he’s excited about it, but Harry’s going to miss them. He’s going to miss how they made Niall’s lips so pouty, and how he’d always crawl into bed with Harry after they’d been tightened because he needed a cuddle. But that’s selfish, so he doesn’t say that._

_“Haz!” Niall beams when he finally makes it over across the room, stumbling against Harry’s chest and cupping his cheeks. “You’re back! You’re alive! I saw Gemma drag you off, and she had that pinchy look on her face, so I was pretty sure this was going to turn into a murder mystery party, without the mystery part.”_

_“I’m fine.” Harry laughs._

_“Mind if I steal him?” Niall asks Anne, removing his hands from Harry’s face to lace their fingers together._

_“He’s all yours.” Anne says with a soft smile._

_And, really, she’s right._

_Harry knows he should wait for Gemma to get back and lead him to a bed, but he doesn’t. He lets Niall lead him away, and just resolves to keeping his mouth shut, because he is all Niall’s, but Niall doesn’t need to know that._

 

“You’re still here.” Harry rasps out when his eyes flutter open.

And, really, he’d hoped that Niall would be, but there was a moment of doubt in his mind when he first came out of the depths of sleep. Just a second or two before his body had started interpreting the stimuli around him where he was certain that he’d wake up and find another note.

“Of course. I told you that I would be.” Niall says with a small smile. “Haven’t moved since you fell asleep, which was only half an hour ago, by the way. You can go back to sleep if you want. We still have time.”

“No.” Harry says, shaking his head before burying his face in the crook of Niall’s neck. “I’m fine. Besides, if we’re too late, Gemma will come out here, and that’s the last thing we need.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean.” Niall chuckles. “This conversation has more than enough potential to be awkward without us being naked and in bed together when it happens.”

“And smelling of sex.” Harry adds, for good measure. “Because you definitely smell like sex.”

“Mm, so do you.” Niall hums, walking his fingers down Harry’s chest. He presses lightly against one of the love-bites he’d left not so long ago, and the sensation is unexpected enough to make Harry hiss, which in turn makes Niall worriedly ask, “Shite, did I hurt you?”

“The, uh– The bruises are a bit sensitive.” Harry admits.

“Sorry.” Niall sighs. “Guess I got a bit carried away with that. My possessive side coming out, and all.”

“I just figured that you liked it rough.” Harry says with a shrug.

“Not at all.” Niall mumbles. “I just– I wanted to be able to look at you and know for sure that this happened. And I wanted you to know it happened. In case you decide that this isn’t what you want, I wanted to mark you as mine for whatever time I could, I guess. I don’t know. It was just one of those things that pops into your head during sex, you know? It doesn’t make as much sense now as it did in the moment.”

“You didn’t have to leave marks to make sure I knew this happened.” Harry murmurs, nosing along Niall’s jawline. “And you didn’t have to mark me up to make me yours.”

“I told you that it doesn’t make much sense now.” Niall sighs.

“But it does in a way.” Harry acquiesces, leaving a string of soft kisses down Niall’s neck that make the blond’s breath hitch. “In fact, I quite like it. I like that if somebody saw me, they’d see more than my scars. They’d see you imprinted on my skin, as well.”

He reaches the skin just below Niall’s collarbone and asks, “Can I?”

“Yes. Yeah. Of course.” Niall breathes out.

So Harry does. He makes his own mark. He bites down gently and sucks hard, worries at the tender spot with his teeth and tongue and lips until it’s gone dark and sensitive to the point where Niall gasps at nothing more than a ghost of a breath falling from Harry’s mouth.

It’s not as big as some of the ones that Niall has left on him, not as stark in contrast or high in number, but it’s enough to make Harry’s tummy swoop with pride. Because, yes, if somebody saw his bare torso, they’d see Niall on his skin, but if someone saw Niall, they’d see Harry on his.

“We should probably each take another shower before we head over to Gemma’s.” Harry says after a moment of admiring his handiwork.

“I’ll let Amanda out and feed her. You go get the water started.” Niall grins.

“No.” Harry chuckles. “Showering together does not seem like a good way for either of us to get clean.”

“Cross my heart.” Niall hums. “Just a shower together to save time. No ulterior motives.”

It turns out to be a bit of a fib, in the end, but things don’t go any farther this time than hands gripping each other’s arses as they snog heavily against the wall. There may be a bit of slippery, wet grinding against each other, but it still stays relatively tame. They don’t get fully hard, at least, and they still manage to actually scrub themselves down without becoming overly late. That’s enough for Harry to call it a win.

Niall dresses first, while Harry stays in the bathroom and attempts to dry his hair with a mostly damp towel. If Niall is going to be around sometimes, then Harry might need to buy another towel. Two isn’t enough for the both of them to share.

Neither is one toothbrush, for that matter. That’s definitely the priority.

“Mm, it’s a shame you’re going to cover up.” Niall says from the doorway while Harry hangs his towel to dry. And he’d return the sentiment, but he can’t do that with complete honestly. Not when Niall looks so bloody good in Harry’s clothes, particularly the oversized lilac jumper that he’s nicked from Harry’s drawer.

“Brought you something.” Niall adds after a moment, holding some prize in the fist he has clutched against his chest. “I, uh– I found this chain in the other room.”

“I don’t wear jewelry anymore.” Harry tells him with a shrug.

“I’ve noticed.” Niall nods. “I was hoping that you’d make an exception.”

“Why would I wear just a plain chain-” Harry asks, cutting himself off when Niall lets the chain dangle down and shows that it’s got a pendant on it. “Is that your-”

“My ring.” Niall finishes for him.

Harry doesn’t even know what to say to that. His hands clench the porcelain of the sink just to keep himself standing, because his stomach churns at the thought.

“Why?” Harry chokes out, keeping his eyes cast down. The idea of it hurts, burns in his gut, but he wants to understand Niall’s thought process before he gives his answer.

“Because I have to keep his ring.” Niall says gently, stepping forward into the room. “That’s part of my penance. And I know it bothers you, but I have to keep wearing it. I owe that much to him, at least. I don’t need to keep wearing mine, though. It belongs with the person who has my heart, who’s always had my heart. It belongs with you, because I never want you to have any reason to doubt that.”

“The idea is sweet.” Harry admits. “I just– I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t know if I can wear your wedding ring, Niall.”

“You don’t have to, then.” Niall says quietly. “I’m sorry. I should have figured it was too much, or too stupid, or– Too– Too something. I don’t know. Fuck! I don’t know why I thought this was a good-”

“Stop.” Harry cuts him off. He closes his hand around Niall’s wrist, keeping him from dashing out like he looks like he wants to. “I– I can’t do it yet. I can’t wear it yet. But I’ll keep it until I can, okay?”

“Really?” Niall asks weakly. “Because you don’t have to. It’s fine. It was a stupid idea.”

“It’s not.” Harry tells him, leaning over and knocking his forehead against Niall’s. “It’s not stupid. It’s sweet. Odd, but sweet. I just need some time to wrap my mind around the idea of wearing the ring that another man gave you for your drunken wedding to him at sea.”

“Like I said, stupid.” Niall mutters. “Especially when you put it like that, which is fair.”

“Just give me time, yeah?” Harry requests, prying open Niall’s fingers and taking the chain with the ring. “I’ll keep it with me until I can wear it. I want to, but I need time before I can.”

“You can have as long as you need.” Niall breathes out. “No rush. And you don’t have to wear it just because you feel obligated, or anything. You don’t have to wear it at all, if you don’t want to. I just want you to have it.”

“I’ll keep it safe.” Harry whispers, pressing a light kiss to Niall’s lips.

He’s not sure when he’ll be able to wear it, if ever, but he can definitely do this much. He can keep this piece of Niall’s heart safe.


	27. Chapter 27

“Bloody hell.” Gemma says for the third time in as many minutes. It’s the only thing she’s said since they arrived, and Harry is afraid that she’s having a stroke. “Bloody fucking hell.”

Well, at least she knows another word.

“Is she alright?” Niall asks, leaning over to whisper the words in Harry’s ear as he glances worriedly at Gemma shuffling about the kitchen to finish making the tea. “Should we do something?”

“I’m not sure.” Harry admits quietly. “I think we should just let her get it all out. You know how she gets.”

Gemma sets down a cup in front of each of them, looks between the two of them, and mutters, “Bloody fucking hell.”

And Harry kind of wants to laugh, because he’s never seen Gemma so unhinged, but he knows better. She’s got her own cup of tea, and Harry certainly doesn’t want to have it thrown on him. Niall, however, appears to have no such qualms when facing down Gemma’s temper.

“Yeah, think you said that already.” he smirks, sipping loudly from his cup as Gemma’s eyes narrow dangerously at him. “Try something new, maybe.”

“Oh god.” Harry sighs, dropping his head into his hands. He just got Niall back, and now he’s going to die. Harry wasn’t nearly done kissing him yet.

Niall gets what he wants, though, and Gemma growls out, “What the bloody hell are you doing on our property?”

“Visiting.” Niall hums, setting down his cup.

Harry sees Gemma’s hand wind back, and quickly rushes out, “Stop! Both of you!”

“Do you even know what you did to him when you left like that?” Gemma spits out angrily, returning her hand to the counter instead of slapping Niall like she was about to do. “Do you know how badly you broke him? And now you think you can just walk back into his life like the last two years never happened?”

“Stop.” Harry says again, more forcefully this time. “Gems, believe me, Niall and I have had this out already. It’s– It’s a work in progress, but we’re dealing with it between the two of us. Niall, stop antagonizing her.”

“Sorry.” Niall mumbles. 

And it sounds reluctant, but it’s a start. Harry has no idea what’s gotten into Niall, but he needs to calm down. This attitude of his isn’t helping anything.

“What the hell is going on?” Gemma asks incredulously. “I thought that it was a joke when we were on the phone. I thought it must have been Liam or Louis, and you guys were just messing with me. This can’t be fucking real.”

“It is.” Harry tells her. “We haven’t really figured everything out, but that’s for us to do. Can you at least try and be happy for us? For me?”

“Bug– Harry– After what happened, how can you do this?” Gemma whispers.

“Because I love him.” Harry answers, reaching over to take Niall’s hand.

“Our parents would still be alive if it weren’t for him.” Gemma bites out. “If he hadn’t- If he hadn’t left, then mum and dad would still be alive.”

“Enough.” Harry growls. “Their deaths are on my hands, Gemma. Nobody else’s, and definitely not Niall’s.”

“I have to get back to work.” Gemma mutters, turning and walking out of the kitchen. “I think you should both go.”

“I should apologize.” Niall sighs.

“No. This is between me and her.” Harry says quietly, climbing out of his seat. “She’s wrong, and she knows it. You had nothing to do with our parents’ deaths. I’m going after her. Just– Just don’t leave, okay? Please don’t go while my back is turned.”

“I’m not going anywhere, pet.” Niall murmurs, lifting Harry’s hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to it.

“I’ll be back.” Harry mumbles, climbing to his feet and rushing after Gemma.

He didn’t see where she went, but he has a pretty good feeling. She can’t actually be doing work when she’s wound up like this. She knows better than that. No, she’ll go to the same place she always did to calm down, to scream without being heard. The study. It has alcohol, after all.

He’s right, as it turns out. He finds her pouring a glass full of whiskey, rather than stopping at a finger or two.

“Since when don’t you leave at the earliest opportunity?” Gemma scoffs when Harry closes the door behind him.

“Since when do you blame Niall for our parents’ deaths?” Harry fires back.

“I need someone to blame.” Gemma mutters. “I need it, Harry. More than you know, I need it.”

“I’m to blame, Gemma.” Harry says firmly. “Me. You know that. You’ve been blaming me all this time. You’ve barely even looked me in the eyes for two years, because we both know that I’m to blame. So why try to pass it onto Niall?”

“Because it’s not your fault!” Gemma yells, slamming her glass down on the table and shattering it. “It’s mine! It’s my fault that they’re dead, Harry!”

“I– What?” Harry stammers, caught off guard by Gemma’s explosive rage.

“It’s my fault!” Gemma chokes out. “They weren’t even supposed to be in the car that night. I was.”

“Gemma, what the hell are you talking about?” Harry asks shakily.

“When Liam called to have someone come get you– I– I was the one who answered the phone.” Gemma whispers, turning to face Harry with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes are soft, broken like her voice, and Harry has forgotten what she looks like without fire burning in them. “I– I was just so tired of hearing you whining on about Niall. I was being selfish, and I tried to pass off the chauffeur duty onto one of the maids, but – but mum overheard me.

“She got mad at me for not being sympathetic, but I didn’t care. I said that you should walk home if you were going to keep being so pathetic and weak. Dad walked in, and I explained the situation to him, and he decided that he was done too. He was going to come get you, and then cut you off until you pulled yourself together. Mum went with him to try and calm him down, and that’s why they were in the car. That’s why nobody got to the Rover before you took your keys back. It’s not your fault, Harry. It’s mine. That’s why I haven’t barely looked you in the eye.”

“Oh, Gems.” Harry says softly, crossing the room and pulling Gemma into a tight hug just as her knees start to buckle. She wraps her arms around him tight and sobs, burying her face in his chest. He strokes her hair and murmurs, “It’s not your fault. It’s not.”

“If I’d just come-” Gemma starts, but Harry shushes her and places a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Then you might have died instead.” Harry whispers. “It was my mistake, Gemma. It was my choice. It wasn’t you, or dad, or mum, or Niall. It was me. I’m the only one to blame. Niall left because of something that happened between us, something that I did. That was the catalyst for everything. That night is why he left, which is why I was so broken, which is why I got smashed and Liam even had to call you. Everything that happened, happened because of the things that I did. Don’t shoulder this, because you aren’t to blame. I’m the one who’s responsible.”

“You aren’t, though.” Gemma says quietly. “You made your choice, yes, but so did the rest of us, Harry. You can’t take all the guilt, because it’s not yours to take. It’s too much for you to carry.”

“I’m strong enough to take it, Gems.” Harry tells her. “Let me carry it so that you don’t have to.”

“I’m done letting you carry it by yourself.” Gemma says firmly, standing back up on her own two feet and sweeping her hair out of her eyes. “I’ve let you do it for so long, because I was too afraid to admit my part in it. I wanted to blame anyone but myself, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t let you do it alone anymore.”

“I won’t blame you for my mistakes, Gemma.” Harry sighs.

“And I won’t blame you for mine.” Gemma counters. “I want to be a part of your life again. I want to help you start moving on from this. If– If Niall is how you want to do that, then that’s fine with me. I just don’t want you spiraling back down again, so be careful. I’ve already lost you once, and I can’t lose you a second time.”

“I’ll work on it.” Harry nods. “But don’t expect miracles from me, yeah?”

“I’m not.” Gemma chuckles. “I’d settle for just seeing you for more than ten minutes two times a week.”

“I’ll see if I can pencil you into my schedule.” Harry hums. “I’m a very busy man, you know.”

“Bite me, bug.” Gemma snorts. “I’ve been running our business through emails, texts, and skype conferences for the past week. You don’t know the meaning of the word ‘busy’.”

“So I guess that you don’t have time to show Niall some properties so he can move off of the Ram?” Harry asks.

“God, no.” Gemma scoffs. “Not for a couple weeks at the very least. I don’t really even show properties anymore. That’s a bit below the CEO level. I’ll do it for the major properties and big clients, but I have too much on my plate managing the business to show flats. I’m up to my eyes in paperwork for claims about storm damage at the moment, and I don’t see that slowing down for a while.”

“Can you set something up with one of your agents, then?” Harry requests.

“No.” Gemma smirks. “You do it.”

“I– I’m not even licensed.” Harry points out.

“You know enough about the properties around here to show them to him.” Gemma hums. “I’m sure nobody will object. I’ll print off a list of open properties for you, and all the information that comes with them.”

“You’re the absolute worst, sometimes.” Harry huffs.

“Would you rather switch, and I can show Niall properties while you run a real estate empire?” Gemma asks, cocking an eyebrow in challenge.

“Definitely not.” Harry says, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I’ll show him around.”

“Good.” Gemma nods. “Now– How’s the sex?”

“Oh my god!” Harry groans. “What even makes you think we’ve done that yet?”

“If Niall is out here, then he must have come before the storm got too bad, which means that you two have been trapped together for almost a week. He’s not dead, so you two must have shagged at some point. It’s not like you’ve got anything else to do out there.” Gemma grins.

“It’s none of your business how we spent our time.” Harry mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m not asking you to tell me all the dirty details.” Gemma laughs. “I don’t want to know what his prick looks like, or who tops, or anything like that. Just tell me if it’s worth all the pining.”

“Have you ever even heard of privacy?” Harry mutters. “I’m not even going to tell you whether or not we’ve done anything. That’s weird. I’m not discussing that sort of thing with my sister.”

“Since when are you a prude?” Gemma asks, furrowing her brow. “You used to be a fountain of ‘too much information’.”

“None of those times I ever discussed with you were people that I cared about.” Harry mumbles. “I didn’t love them. I love Niall, and what happens between us is private.”

“So this is a real thing that’s happening, then?” Gemma asks. “Like– Like boyfriends and the whole spiel?”

“I don’t know what we are, yet.” Harry admits, sitting down and dropping his head into his hands. “We’ve not properly figured it out. I– I love him, but I don’t know if I can really do this. I don’t know if there’s enough of me left to even have a relationship. And he comes with a particular set of challenges. Like this.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the chain, letting the gold band dangle below his fist.

“He proposed to you?” Gemma asks incredulously. “Bug, please tell me you turned him down. It’s way too soon, no matter how much you love him.”

“He didn’t propose.” Harry mutters, shaking his head. “It’s his wedding ring. He got married while he was gone. Then his husband died. And he’s told me all about it, but it still makes my stomach twist every time I think about it.”

“Why do you have his ring?” Gemma asks.

“He said that it’s because it belongs with the person who has his heart, who always had it.” Harry explains. “It’s– It’s sweet.”

“And macabre.” Gemma scoffs. “How do you feel about it?”

“I like that he wants me to have it, like a piece of his heart.” Harry mumbles. “It symbolizes a lot more to him than just being a wedding ring. He still wears his late husband’s ring on a chain around his neck, as penance for getting him killed. This is the other half of that. I understand what he’s thinking, but everything is still so new, and I don’t know if I can handle this. I don’t know if I can do any of this, and it’s all happening so fast, and-”

“What’s holding you back?” Gemma asks, cutting off his word vomit. “You’ve wanted this for years, so what’s holding you back?”

“He left me once.” Harry breathes out. “He left me after the first time I told him I’m in love with him. He says that he wants to stay, but I’m so scared that he’s going to leave me again that I can barely breathe when I think about it. All I wanted a few days ago was for him to just be gone again, to leave me alone so that I could stay the way I’ve been for the last two years, but I don’t– I don’t think I want to be that person anymore. And that scares me too, because I thought I was satisfied with my life until he came back.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to know that you weren’t okay, Harry.” Gemma says gently. “You may have been coping, but you weren’t happy.”

“But why do I get to be happy?” Harry asks weakly. “I killed them, I took away any chance they had to ever be happy again, so why do I get that chance now?”

“Because that’s what they’d want for you.” Gemma answers with a soft smile. “They always wanted for you to be happy, bug. They didn’t always show it right, and sometimes they pushed too hard, but they only ever wanted you to be happy.”

“I believe that might have been how mum felt, but not dad.” Harry admits. “He always made me feel weak and small and worthless. He didn’t care about what would make me happy.”

“Yeah, he did.” Gemma sighs. “Don’t you ever wonder why he pushed you into becoming a doctor?”

“Because he wanted his son to do something respectable, and not just be a writer.” Harry mutters.

“Not at all.” Gemma says, rubbing her hands together. “Dad never wanted you to be a doctor. He knew that that wasn’t the right path for you, and neither was running the family business. Dad pushed you and pushed you and pushed you because he wanted you to stand up for yourself. He wanted you to get on your own two feet, and make your way yourself. He wanted to make you strong, because the world is really fucking hard, Harry.

“Being a writer is what you wanted, and what he wanted for you because of that, but he knew that you needed to be strong. You needed to be able to tell him ‘no’, and carve out your own life, because that wasn’t something that he could help you do. You’d have never been happy letting him help you get to that dream, so he wanted you to fight for it. He was willing to be the bad guy that you had to overcome in order to become the fighter we all know is in you.

“Dad believed in you, Harry. He believed in you so much, and he tried to help you, in his own way. And maybe that wasn’t the right way, but he was doing the best he could. He loved you with every bit of his heart, and he always believed that you’d make it someday, when you were finally ready to fight for what you wanted.”

“How do you know all this?” Harry asks, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

“You aren’t the only one in the family who kept journals.” Gemma smiles, walking over to one of the bookcases behind the desk on the far wall of the room. She goes through a shelf, picking out three books, and then walks back over. “I found these when I was going through dad’s office after I took over the company. They helped me, and I think that they could help you too.”

“I never knew.” Harry whispers, looking over the covers of each of the journals. They’re nicer than the ones that Harry makes for himself, with Des’ full name written out in gold leaf.

“I think mum was the only person who knew.” Gemma chuckles. “He hoped that you and Niall would end up together. Back when you first came out, he wondered if the two of you were together. When he realized you weren’t, he hoped that you’d both ‘pull your heads out of your arses, and see what’s right in front of you.’ His words, not mine.”

“Bobby told me almost the exact same thing.” Harry says with a choked laugh. “When I first came back to town that summer, he said that Niall and I were supposed to be together, and that I needed to finish ‘sewing my oats’ because ‘God forbid he actually end up with that little prick, Zayn.’”

“Mum wanted it too.” Gemma hums. “She always said that a love like the one between you and Niall would have been worth waiting for.”

“She knew.” Harry gasps. “Fuck! She knew! That’s what she said to me at the party, the night that I told you. She said ‘This one will be worth the wait.’”

“Really, I think everyone knew except for the two of you.” Gemma snorts. “I knew back when you met him that you’d fall for him. You always had that big, dopey grin on whenever you spent time with him, and I’d never even seen you pull more than a quick smile for photos before that. And then there was the whole fact that you seemed to purposely get kicked out of every boarding school that you went to so that you could go to the local school while they found a new place to send you, until I finally convinced mum and dad to just have you go to school with Niall, or rather, pay for Niall to go to school with you, because he’s the only person you’d behave yourself for.”

“That was you?” Harry asks. “I always thought that it was weird that he got a ‘scholarship’ to my school right after I started there, especially when he hadn’t even applied for one, but I didn’t know that you were involved.”

“C’mon, bug. I’ve always been the brains of the family.” Gemma smirks. “And I’ve always had your back.”

“Will you still have it if I pursue whatever this thing is with Niall?” Harry asks her.

“Yeah.” Gemma nods. “But if he hurts you again, I’ll take that ring from you and shove it so far up his arse that the doctors will never find it.”

“Speaking of doctors-” Harry sighs, remembering Gemma’s hand. “Let me take a look. May not have actually been doctor material, but I can help out with that much at least.”

“It’s nothing too bad.” Gemma says, holding out her hand. “Just a little nick. It mostly shattered away from my hand, because the base of the glass was too thick to break that easily.”

She’s right. Thankfully, all she has is a slight, shallow cut along the meat of her palm. She’ll want to disinfect it, and keep it bandaged, but she won’t need to go to the A&E.

He tells her as much, and leads her to the nearest bathroom that has the supplies he needs to take care of it. It’s funny, in a certain way, that they’re the only three people around for a few miles, and they’ve all managed to get hurt, but that they’ve also all been lucky enough to escape with just minor injuries. Things could have been so much worse, and they’d have been stuck out here, but they seem to have luck on their sides, for once.

“I’ll print off that list and information for you, but I really do need to get back to work.” Gemma tells him when they exit the bathroom. “Swing by tomorrow and grab the papers. And you can take some of my makeup, if you want.”

“No amount of makeup can cover my scars, Gems.” Harry scoffs.

“I’m not talking about your scars.” Gemma counters with a smirk. “I’m talking about the bloody love bite the size of a cricket ball that’s peeking out of your jumper.”

Well, fuck.


	28. Chapter 28

“You’re sure you’re okay with me staying another night?” Niall asks for the fifth time, shuffling nervously back and forth as Harry changes into something more comfortable. He’s not ready for bed yet, because it’s still relatively early in the day, but he’s in the mood to just relax after today. After this whole week, really.

“Niall, stop asking that.” Harry sighs. “I would have left you at the main house if I wasn’t okay with this. And why wouldn’t I be? Or are you having second thoughts about us, now that-”

“No.” Niall rushes out. “Definitely not. I just– After what Gemma said, I– I wasn’t really sure how you felt. You’ve barely spoken since you met back up with me in the kitchen, and I can’t get a read on you. I thought maybe you’d come around to her way of thinking, and you just brought me back here to end things in private.”

“I– I have a lot on my mind.” Harry admits, splaying his hand over the top one in the stack of his father’s journals. “A lot of new information about things with my family came out in my talk with Gemma, and I’m still processing it. I’m not breaking this off though, unless that’s what you want.”

“I just want to know where we stand.” Niall says quietly.

“The blame isn’t on you, Niall.” Harry tells him. “Even Gemma doesn’t actually blame you, and I never did. She was trying to run from her own guilty feelings. She’s sorry about what she said, and she’d have come to tell you that herself if she hadn’t gotten a call that she had to take care of right then, because a single mum in one of our properties has a tree in her living room.”

“She doesn’t need to apologize.” Niall says softly. “She’s not entirely wrong. If I hadn’t-”

“There’s been enough blame passed around today based on hypotheticals, Niall.” Harry cuts him off. “Can we just– Can we not do this tonight? Today has just been so much stress, and this whole week has been like a fucking roller coaster, and I really just want to put the telly up, and watch a few films with you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Niall nods, his lips stretching in a small smile. “Do you want me to set it all up?”

“Would you mind?” Harry asks.

“Not at all.” Niall chuckles, grabbing the small flat-screen off the table.

While they were at the house, Harry went up to his old room and grabbed a few things. There was the telly, of course, because he’s tired of not having one out here, if just to watch films. He also took some of his old clothes and some other random things from around his room, including a framed picture of himself, Gemma, and his parents from the last holiday they took as a family, right before Harry left for university.

He grabs that off the table and sets it on the desk, on the little shelf above where he’s stacked his father’s journals. He’s not sure when he’ll get around to reading them, or if he’ll ever even be able to bring himself to invade his father’s private thoughts that way, but he wants to know if everything that Gemma said was true. He wants to know if his father really set himself up as an obstacle in Harry’s path to try and help him grow, rather than because he thought Harry was worthless.

For his whole life, his relationship with his father left him feeling pathetic. He always thought that his father saw him as a pitiful coward, someone that Des wanted far away from his empire for fear that he’d leave it in ruins. He never dreamed that his father actually had more faith in him than he had in himself, and that revelation has rocked him to his core.

And Gemma wouldn’t lie about that, right? She wouldn’t build Harry up, just to tear him down by letting him read the journals and find out that it was all a lie. There has to be some truth to what she said. There has to be. Harry has never felt like he’s needed anything more than he needs what Gemma said to be the truth, even if it wouldn’t change anything.

It wouldn’t change the past. It wouldn’t change the fact that Harry always felt like he was lesser in Des’ eyes. It wouldn’t change the way that he sneered at Harry’s dreams, and used Harry’s trust fund like both the carrot and the rod to manipulate Harry into doing what he wanted, and constantly belittled him with cruel comments.

But it might change the way that Harry feels about his father now, which would still be more than Harry ever hoped for.

“Where have you gone, pet?” Niall asks gently, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder and pulling him back to reality.

“Do you think my father respected me?” Harry asks quietly.

“I think he loved you very much, but that he didn’t know how to act around you.” Niall answers. “I think that he didn’t know how to be a father to you like he was with Gemma, because you two weren’t very alike.”

“These are his.” Harry tells him. “He kept these, and wrote down all the things that he never told me, according to Gemma. I– I haven’t read them yet, but she says that he actually wanted me to be a writer, and set himself up as the villain in my story so that I’d learn to fight for myself.”

“I believe it.” Niall says quietly, tracing his finger over Des’ name on the journal. “Do you remember that Christmas party? The last one I went to at your house, since Bobby was still recovering from surgery the last year I was here for one?”

“I do.” Harry nods.

“Des pulled me aside that night.” Niall admits. “He was– I think he was a bit past tipsy. He said that he wished that he understood you like I did, and that he was thankful that you had me to help you when he didn’t know how.”

“He wished you and I would be together, if what Gemma said is true.” Harry says, pointing down at the journals. “Apparently, it’s in one of these that he said it.”

“I hope he gets his wish, then.” Niall smiles.

“Me too.” Harry breathes out.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” Niall asks when the credits start rolling on ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I just need to ask.”

“Go ahead.” Harry mumbles sleepily.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about Ashton and Luke?” Niall asks. “That you were in a relationship, I mean? I read about them in the journals, and I can’t figure out why you never told me.”

And– Wow– That was nowhere on the list of things that Harry ever thought that Niall would ask him. It definitely wakes him up, though.

“I, um– I don’t really know.” Harry admits, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. “At the time, it was because I just wanted to move on, and because I left them for you, but I couldn’t tell you that. And, now, I think it was more about wanting something to myself. Something that was only mine, because it was special to me.”

“Did you love them?” Niall asks quietly.

“I didn’t realize it until I saw them again after the accident, but yeah.” Harry nods. “I– I thought that it was just me caring a lot about them, because the way I felt for them was different than the way that I felt for you. But then, when they showed up at the hospital, I knew that I was in love with them, because I wanted them to be as far away from me as possible, even though the very thought of it made me feel like I was dying, because I felt like I’d ruin their lives by being a part of them.”

“Do you ever wish that you’d gone with them?” Niall questions. “When they came to the hospital, and they tried to bring you back to London, do you wish that you’d gone with them?”

“No.” Harry answers. “They would never have been able to understand me. Not really. Not like you can. There have been times where I wished that I had gone with them, just to escape everything, but not for a long time. I’m not still in love with them, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

“That obvious, was I?” Niall asks with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head.

“Subtlety isn’t really your thing.” Harry says with a shake of his head. “Do you ever wish that you’d tried to make things work with Bressie?”

“No. I wish that I’d just explained to him right from the start that I was in love with you, and that things would never have worked between me and him. I didn’t handle that situation right at all, because I was trying to go by the route that would hurt everyone the least, and ended up doing more damage than I would have done if I’d just filed for divorce and fought it out in court if that’s what it came to.” Niall sighs. “It would have been miserable, but Bressie would still be alive, and I’d have been back here as soon as I could have been.”

“Was he in love with you?” Harry asks before he can stop himself. He’s not even sure that he wants to know the answer, but apparently this is a thing that they’re doing right now. Apparently they’re diving into the messy stickiness of their previous relationships.

“He never told me.” Niall admits. “I think there were a lot of feelings involved, or else he wouldn’t have clung so hard onto the marriage, and we wouldn’t have fought so hard. I don’t know if he ever really sorted out those feelings. Things between us were– They were explosive. Everything was always white hot, all the time, and I don’t know if that ever gave him the chance to figure out if he was in love with me, or if it was just a lot of passion.

“And I wasn’t in love with him, but I cared about him a lot. He– He was a really great guy. He was funny, and we had a lot in common, and things were kind of nice whenever we were in port. We made for really good friends, and that might have been able to translate into a good relationship if the circumstances were different. You would have liked him a lot, I think. He was definitely your type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry scoffs.

“He was well fit, and a bit of a workout nut, and he was older than us.” Niall chuckles. “He was thirty-five.”

“But all of that’s countered by the fact that he had sex with you.” Harry huffs. “Which immediately makes him the opposite of my type.”

“Is that why you hated Zayn, then? Because you were jealous?” Niall hums, smirking far too smugly for Harry’s liking.

“I hated Zayn because I could tell from the second I met him that he wouldn’t be good for you.” Harry grumbles. “I hated him because I told you he’d break your heart, and you didn’t care. You fought like hell for a relationship that was doomed before it even started, and I hated watching you go through all that for a guy who wasn’t worth it.”

“And because you were jealous.” Niall grins.

“Yes, alright!” Harry groans, burying his face in his knees. “I was bloody jealous of Zayn, and I’m bloody jealous of Bressie too.”

“At least I’m not the only one.” Niall hums, walking his fingers over the line of Harry’s shoulders. “I almost threw up whenever I was reading the stuff about your relationship with Ashton and Luke. Felt like I’d been hit in the gut by a train. I hated everyone you ever slept with, but at least I always knew that it was only ever going to be one night with them. I could handle the one night stands. I don’t know how I would have reacted if I knew that you were in a committed relationship. I mean– It’s been two years since you were with them, but it’s still making me sick to think about it.”

“I know exactly how you feel.” Harry sighs. “The thought of Bressie keeps making me want to put my fist through something. And the worst part is, I couldn’t hate him, even if he were still alive. I can’t hate him, because he mattered to you, and at least he tried, unlike Zayn.”

“And I can’t hate those two, because they loved you, and you loved them.” Niall says quietly. “From what I read, they were good to you.”

“They were.” Harry breathes out. “They were really good to me, but I wasn’t to them. I hurt them so badly, and I did it twice. I left them, and then I pushed them away by saying everything I could think of to break whatever love that they had for me. I don’t– I don’t want to be with them, but I wish that I hadn’t hurt them so much. I wish that I hadn’t said things to them that were unforgivable. I wish that I hadn’t targeted their insecurities, and shot right at them.”

“Have you tried to contact them since then?” Niall questions.

“Would have ruined the whole, ‘I never loved you, and I don’t want anything to do with you’ bluff that I had to make.” Harry mumbles, turning his face so that his cheek rests on his knee and he can see Niall. “If– If I were to apologize now, it would be admitting that I said what I said purely for the purpose of hurting them. It would reopen old wounds for them, and that wouldn’t be fair to do just to take the weight off of my conscience.”

“Have you ever thought that it might be a weight off of them, as well?” Niall asks. “That knowing that you only did what you did to protect them, and yourself, would help all three of you?”

“No.” Harry admits. “Because, if it doesn’t, then I just bring back up all of that pain for them all over again. Or– Or they might not even care. They might have just forgotten about me.”

“They loved you, pet.” Niall murmurs, cupping his hand on Harry’s unoccupied cheek. “Trust me, that’s not something that goes away that easily. You’re not so easily gotten over. They would care.”

“How do you know?” Harry asks weakly.

“Because I’ve been in love with you for a very long time.” Niall answers with a soft smile. “I’m somewhat of an expert in the field. Reckon I know more than anyone in the world about what it’s like to be in love with you. And that means that I know for a fact that anyone who’s had the privilege of loving you doesn’t get over you so easily, and doesn’t forget you ever.”

“It was less than a year, Ni.” Harry sighs. “From the first night I spent with them, to kicking them out of the hospital, everything with them lasted about nine months. I wasn’t a long-term part of their lives like I was with you.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Niall hums, rubbing his thumb over the line of Harry’s cheekbone. “Could have been one minute, and it would be more than enough for you to enrapture them for the rest of their lives.”

“How hard did you hit your head when you were fixing the water heater?” Harry scoffs. “Stop saying stupid shite.”

“’M not.” Niall says with a pout. “’M serious.”

“You’ve gone mad.” Harry snorts. “Turned into a total nutter. I mean– I’m no beacon of mental health, but you’re completely bonkers. Your scar kink is the least of your problems, apparently.”

“One of these days, I’m going to tie you to this fucking bed and spend ten minutes kissing each and every single one of your scars until you explode.” Niall grins. “Not because I have a scar kink, but because I think you might want me to have one.”

“It would make things easier.” Harry says with a shrug. “At least if you had a scar kink, it would take a lot for you to find somebody that would fulfill your kink more than me.”

“Mm, but nobody on Earth can fulfill my ‘you kink’ more than you.” Niall muses. “They can’t fill it at all, actually. That’s kind of the point.”

“Being reduced to a kink really isn’t flattering.” Harry mutters. “I told you that the first time. If you need a specific kink just to be attracted to me, then-”

“That’s not what I mean when I say that I have a ‘you kink’.” Niall cuts him off. He uses the hand that he doesn’t have on Harry’s cheek to grab his knee, and hauls him over in one fluid motion so that he’s straddled over Niall’s lap. “It’s about so much more than just physical attraction, pet.”

“I don’t– You– I– What?” Harry stammers, stutters, babbles like an incoherent mess. How’s he expected to think or speak clearly when he’s got Niall’s hands gripping at his hips, and Niall’s lips wandering over his neck, and Niall’s breath ghosting over the sensitive skin bruised by one of the love-bites from the last time they were in this bed together?

How’s he supposed to be lucid when he’s still got the ghost of Niall’s touch over his entire body, and the reality of Niall’s touch once again demanding all of his attention?

“It’s about all of you.” Niall whispers into the hollow at the base of Harry’s throat. “It’s about every single bit of you, inside and out. It’s about the way you curl your hair around your finger when you aren’t even thinking about it, and the way you rub your eyes with your fists when you’re tired, and the way you hum whenever a song is stuck in your head. It’s about the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re confused, and the way you draw in your eyebrows when you’re offended, and the way your nose crinkles up when you genuinely smile. 

“It’s about the way you talk in your sleep, and the way you always take a deep breath to smell your tea before you drink it, and the way you can fall asleep in any position, no matter how uncomfortable it looks. It’s about the way that you pinch your bottom lip between your fingers, and the way you pretend that you aren’t crying at sad movies, and the way that you stick your tongue out when you eat, and the way you whimper when I stop kissing you, even for a second.

“And, yeah, part of it is the physical attraction. Part of it is about how fucking hard you make me, without even trying. Part of it is about the way your whole body stretches to infinity when you cum, and the way my name sounds on your lips when you’re teetering over the edge, and the way that I never want to stop feeling your body under my hands. Part of it is about the way your cock feels in my arse, and the way your lips feel around my dick, and the way your eyes can be so filthy and so innocent at the same time when I feel like I’m falling apart whenever we touch each other.

“But it’s more about how I feel when I’m with you. How I’ve always felt when I’m with you. It’s about how I know you, inside and out. It’s about all the little things about you that add up to make my very favorite person in this world. It’s about the way that, when we’re together, all I can see or hear or think or breathe is you. Yeah, it’s about the way you give me a hard-on, but it’s also the way that you give me a heart-on.”

And – really – the last thing Harry expected to be doing until the very end of that speech of Niall’s was to be laughing. His emotions are ricocheting around all over the place between touched and scared and horny, and then they settle somewhere well past amused. Somewhere that starts as a giggle slipping between his lips, and quickly descends into a full blown storm of cackles that shake through both him and Niall so much that the headboard pounds against the wall in a very different way than he’d wanted it to be doing.

He didn’t know that it’s what he needed until he’s coming back down from it, collapsed half on top of Niall, and half on the bed. He’s still got his legs thrown over Niall’s, but his top half is cuddled into the blond’s side and being held tightly there by his arm. And it’s so dumb, but he feels a million times lighter than he has since those few seconds when he woke and realized Niall was still there, but before the realities of responsibility settled back over his heart like a cloak.

“You’re such a fucking loon.” Harry mumbles into Niall’s shoulder, bumping his forehead against the blond’s chin when he starts to laugh again. “I mean– Until that last fucking sentence, I was so fucking turned on. I was bloody ready to just take the pain of riding you dry, if that’s what it took. Then you ruined it. Jesus Christ, did you ruin it.”

“That’s fine.” Niall hums, turning his face and rubbing their noses together. His eyes lock with Harry’s, and there’s a hundred different things dancing through them. Harry would spend the rest of his life watching them glitter and glimmer and glow if he could. “Pretty sure that I just explained that it’s about all of you. Sex would have been great, but getting to hear you laugh and see you smile is equally as brilliant.”

“Is all that really true?” Harry asks with a gulp, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. His breath catches for just a moment when it slips over Niall’s as well, and the blond’s hand tightens just a bit on his hip. “All of, um– All of that stuff you said before, I mean.”

“That’s just a fraction of it, but yeah. It really is, pet.” Niall murmurs. “We’d die of old age before I could list everything about you that I love, though. Thought I’d cut it down to just a small list of some of the reasons, that way your face didn’t burn right off from all the blushing you were doing.”

“Shut it.” Harry huffs, grinding their foreheads together when Niall sniggers. “I just didn’t realize you paid that much attention to me, is all.”

“Pet, you wouldn’t even believe all the things I know about you.” Niall chuckles. “And I can’t wait to learn the rest as they come up. Could devote my life to learning about you and never be unsatisfied for even a second.”

“Shut up.” Harry groans.

“Why?” Niall asks.

“Because you’re giving me a ‘heart-on’.” Harry giggles, bursting into a laugh when Niall starts up with his raucous cackle.


	29. Chapter 29

_“You know, I don’t get you sometimes.” Harry mutters as they wander through the hills near the edge of the property, pulling his coat tighter around himself. “We could be back at the fucking house, watching ‘Funny Face’ and not freezing our bloody bollocks off. But, no- You want to go for a walk.”_

_“If you’re not lying about why you got kicked out of school this time, then I’d say you’ve gotten plenty of use out of your bollocks already.” Niall snorts. “They’ve had a good run.”_

_“What do you mean, ‘if you’re not lying’?” Harry huffs. “Do you think I’d lie to you?”_

_“I think it’s more likely that you got kicked out for spending too much time writing your stories in classes again, than because you were on your knees for two blokes in the locker room.” Niall mutters. “Since when do you just go around having sex with anyone who blinks at you?”_

_“Since I was tired of being known around school for who my father is.” Harry mumbles. “I’d rather be known for how well I suck dick than my dad’s net-worth.”_

_“That’s dumb.” Niall scoffs. “You don’t need to go around degrading yourself just so that people stop thinking of you as a rich kid.”_

_“You don’t understand.” Harry sighs. “It’s not about that. Everyone at my school was rich, Ni. My schools aren’t like your school. They’re all about fucking networking and making connections and shit for their family businesses. Everyone knows who my dad is, and they’re all trying to find a way to get me in their pockets so that they can run home and tell their fathers about their shiny new toy._

_“I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to play their game. I don’t want to collect people and favors like trading cards to use however I need to, just to fill my family’s coffers with more money that we don’t need. I don’t want to be my father’s puppet._

_“So I do whatever makes me happy, even if you consider it degrading. It’s not degrading if you enjoy it. It’s not like I wasn’t getting anything out of it. I sucked both of them off, and then they sucked me off together. It was fun. Probably would have gone all the way, if that teacher hadn’t walked in on it. Boarding school, Niall. They give you rooms with beds for a reason.”_

_“I’m ninety-nine percent sure that that reason isn’t for all of you to shove your cocks in each other.” Niall says with a roll of his eyes. “But, fine. Whatever. I believe you, alright? Can we talk about something else, now?”_

_“I think it’s going to snow.” Harry says as he looks up at the sky. “We should head back to the house.”_

_“Stop whinging.” Niall says with a roll of his eyes. “We’re almost there.”_

_“Almost where?” Harry whines, stopping just to stomp his feet childishly before rushing to catch up with Niall, who’s moving through the landscape like a man with a mission. “The only thing out here is the stupid lighthouse and cottage.”_

_“Exactly.” Niall grins._

_“That’s where we’re going?” Harry asks incredulously. “Why? Have you got a joint or something? Is that why we’re walking our arses out here in the freezing cold? Because you want to get baked where we won’t get caught?”_

_“If I thought it would do any good at getting you to stop being such a prat, I would go buy some fucking weed right now.” Niall chuckles. “But, no. This hasn’t got anything to do with that sort of thing. I’m taking you to meet some friends.”_

_And– Oh– That hurts. It’s always been a thing, between them. Niall is really the only proper friend that Harry has ever made. No matter what school he ends up in, he always ends up being the outcast among his peers. He always ends up being the kid that nobody talks to, unless they want something. Even the people he has sex with don’t pay any attention to him after the occasion. So Niall normally doesn’t rub it in Harry’s face that he’s an absolute natural at making friends everywhere he goes whenever they’re together._

_“My dad’s not going to like you sneaking your friends out here onto our property just to hang out.” Harry mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I hope you’re being careful not to get caught.”_

_“Not particularly.” Niall hums as they approach the cottage. He knocks on the door a few times, and then presses his ear to the wood before saying, “It doesn’t sound like they’re getting it on, so we should be fine to go in.”_

_“You’re using my family’s lighthouse as a sex shack?” Harry squawks._

_“You’re such a fucking knob.” Niall cackles, opening up the door. “Guys! You’ve got to come here and meet Harry!”_

_“I don’t want to meet your sex friends!” Harry hisses. “You didn’t tell me that you’d lost your virginity!”_

_“I haven’t.” Niall snorts, pulling Harry into the cabin despite the brunet’s attempts to stay outside of it. “Guys! Put on your trousers and get out here!”_

_“You’ve got absolutely no sense of patience, Nialler.” a voice says behind them, and Harry whirls around to meet its owner as they step out of the bathroom. The guy is tall and muscular, with brown hair that looks to have been recently cut, and stubble lining his jaw. The faintest whisper of hair stretches over his chest and trails down his stomach, leading down into the towel he has wrapped haphazardly around his waist as his only sort of covering. He’s got to be a couple of years older than Harry and Niall, but not by much. And he’s attractive, but he’s not Harry’s type at all. “Give us a minute, will you?”_

_“Yeah, yeah.” Niall waves him off. “Just hurry up and get some clothes on, will you? Both of you.”_

_“We’ll put on as much or little as we like, and we’ll do it at our own pace, thank you very bloody much.” says another man, ducking his head under the first one’s arm. Everything about him is sharp, from what Harry can see, from his cheekbones to his tongue to his eyes. “You’re not the boss here, Horan. Only the Styles’ get to tell us what to do.”_

_“You’re looking at one of ‘em.” Niall grins, jabbing his thumb at Harry’s chest. “This here is Harry Styles, so get your fat arse in gear and put on some clothes.”_

_“Oh, so this is the lad you’ve told us about?” the first one asks, ducking back into the bathroom and dragging the other one with him._

_“The one that he never bloody shuts up about, you mean.” the second one snorts._

_“Shut it!” Niall groans, tugging Harry away from the bathroom and sitting him in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “They’re fucking exaggerating.”_

_“You don’t talk about me then?” Harry asks quietly, turning his gaze down to watch himself play with his own fingers._

_“I mean– I do. Of course I do.” Niall rushes out. “Just not all the time. Enough. I talk about you enough. Not too much, and not too little. Just the right amount. That way people know you’re my best mate, but nobody thinks I’m like– Obsessed with you, or something. That would be fucking awkward, you know?”_

_Harry’s not sure when this happened, really. He’s not sure when Niall started getting flustered so easily, or when he started rambling nervously over the smallest things. He probably just doesn’t know how to act around Harry anymore, since Harry spends all his time at stupid fucking boarding schools. He’s got to try harder to keep in contact with Niall when his parents find a new school to ship him off to. He’ll have to figure out a plan while he’s attending classes at Niall’s school again._

_“So you’re the famous ‘Haz’.” the first guy says, stepping out of the bathroom as he tugs a t-shirt over his head before holding his hand out for Harry to shake, which he does quickly. “I’m Liam, and the cute brunet that looked like he was growing out of my armpit earlier is my boyfriend Louis. It’s nice to finally meet you. Our Nialler is quite fond of you. Talks about you a lot.”_

_“Enough.” Niall grumbles. “I talk about him enough.”_

_“What are you on ab- Oh.” Liam says slowly. “Okay, yeah. It’s not – like – all the time or anything. Just tells us about all the mischief that you two have gotten up to over the years.”_

_“It’s his fault.” Harry huffs, narrowing his eyes at Niall, who blushes and smiles sheepishly in response. “He’s always getting the two of us in trouble.”_

_“You mean fun.” Louis smirks, popping up seemingly out of thin air and draping himself over Niall’s shoulders. “This one here would have been a lad after my own heart back in the days before I met that one, if his stories are anything to go by. But every proper prankster has got to have his innocent lad to help balance him out, yeah? Ain’t that right, Nialler?”_

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Niall huffs. “I dragged him all the way out here and listened to him whinge about his bollocks, so the least you two can do is stop being weird and make him feel welcome, yeah?”_

_“I can put on some tea, if you’d like.” Liam offers. “It would help warm you up.”_

_“That would be lovely. Thank you, Liam.” Harry says with a soft smile._

_“Ooh, he really is proper fancy.” Louis chuckles, hopping up to sit on the table. “All sorts of manners and all of that. Makes me feel a bit inadequate, if I’m being honest.”_

_“You are inadequate.” Niall snorts. “Now get your arse off the table. People eat off of here, you know.”_

_“It’s my table, and my arse, and I’ll do as I like with both of them, Niall.” Louis says with a roll of his eyes, and then a wiggle of his hips, as if for good measure._

_“How did you come to work for my father?” Harry asks, remembering Louis’ earlier words about the Styles’ getting to give them orders._

_“I beat him in a card game.” Louis smirks. “Beat his full house with a pair of sixes and one hell of a bluff.”_

_“It’s true.” Niall nods. “Bobby was there. He said he’s never seen anything like it. You know what your father is like at the card table, and he still backed down.”_

_“To make a long story short, Liam and I showed up here in this village because this was as far as we could go with the money we had for bus fare.” Louis explains. “At the pub, we stumbled across a poker game that your fathers were a part of, and I managed to get myself a seat. I outplayed your father, and he offered us the job here at the lighthouse after we explained our circumstances.”_

_“Okay.” Harry says slowly. “Then how do you know Niall?”_

_“The lovely Niall here has been our guide, so to speak.” Louis hums, rubbing his hand through Niall’s fringe and turning something over in Harry’s gut that he can’t identify, but knows that he doesn’t want to feel again. “He’s shown us around, and helped introduce us to people, and explained how everything works. He’s a proper lifesaver.”_

_“I’ve spent half the time since you’ve arrived apologizing for your pranks and mischief.” Niall grumbles. “I should start charging you fees for any time that I have to intercede on your behalf.”_

_“Ooh, the boy in the big house comes by, and you decide to start talking all fancy too?” Louis asks with a decidedly wicked grin, climbing off of the table and into the chair next to Niall. “The Nialler I’ve known would never use a word like ‘intercede’, and he curses every other word. Who are you trying to impress? Curly’s your best mate, yeah? He has to know you’re a right little imp.”_

_“Be nice.” Liam sighs, setting down a cup of tea in front of Harry. “How do you take it, green eyes?”_

_“I– Um– This is fine– Brown eyes?” Harry offers nervously._

_“Trust me-” Niall cuts in, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his own blue eyes. Wow. They are really blue. Did they get bluer since Harry’s been gone? “You want some cream and sugar. Louis only drinks this horrible Yorkshire swill, and it tastes like piss unless you add a bunch of sugar.”_

_“Oi!” Louis growls, glaring menacingly at Niall, not that Niall would notice. He’s too busy narrowing his eyes towards where Liam is getting the jug of cream and a bowl of sugar, for some reason. “Listen here, you ungrateful little sod-”_

_“Boys!” Liam groans, setting down his supplies and shoving his hand in between Louis and Niall like a five fingered wall. “Can you please not have the Lyons versus Yorkshire debate again? I’ve got it memorized at this point, and it’s not entertaining anymore. At least add an interesting twist if you’re going to have this row over and over again. Do it while blindfolded and shooting each other with nerf blasters or something.”_

_“That would be funny.” Harry giggles, burying his face in his hands to smother them as they just keep coming in the wake of the image Liam put in his mind._

_“Haven’t got any nerf blasters handy, so I guess we’ll skip it today.” Niall huffs. He looks over at Liam sitting down next to Harry, and before the older lad’s bum can even hit the chair, he adds, “Payno, switch with me. I don’t want to spend the whole afternoon next to your loony boyfriend.”_

_“I’d be more than happy to.” Liam says with a soft smile, so impossibly full of fondness that Harry feels intrusive just being in the same room at the same time that it’s happening._

_Harry wonders if he’ll ever have anything like that. He wonders if he’ll ever have someone who makes the rest of the world seem to slow down and fade away whenever he looks at them. He wonders if there will ever be anyone who makes Harry’s skin scream and cry with protest whenever there’s space between their bodies. He wonders if there’s a person out there who could love him, despite all of his shortcomings, but still love him for himself, rather than his family name._

_He doesn’t get too much time to ponder it in his head though, because Niall scoots right up next to him and quietly asks, “Do you like them?”_

_“I think so.” Harry admits in a whisper, though it’s unlikely that the couple would overhear anything that’s being said right now. They’re a bit too lost in some sort of eyebrow based, wordless flirting ritual. “They’re funny, and they treat me like I’m normal.”_

_“Why would you ever want to be normal?” Niall asks softly. “You’re special, Haz. You’re so, so special. Don’t settle for being like the rest of us.”_

_“You’re special too, Ni. You’re the most special person I know.” Harry murmurs, smiling widely when Niall starts to blush and fidget._

_“What, um– What do you say we finish up our tea, and then we go back to yours and watch ‘Funny Face’?” Niall asks._

_“You want to stay over tonight?” Harry offers. “I’ll charm one of the cooks into giving us a bunch of food, and then we can stow away in my room and make a proper night of it.”_

_“Afraid your dad will yell at you if you don’t have a buffer?” Niall chuckles._

_“No. I can take the yelling. I'm used to it." Harry says, shaking his head. “I just really missed you a lot is all.”_

_“I think I can manage something, then. Since you seem all needy and shite.” Niall mumbles. Harry laughs and presses a sloppy kiss to Niall’s cheek with excitement. And Niall’s blushing again, for whatever reason, but Harry is so happy that he won’t even tease the blond about it._

_Harry’s missed him a lot, and he wants to cram as much time with Niall into his schedule as he can get before his parents ship him away again. So he leans over, puts his head on Niall’s shoulder, and decides to take his time drinking his tea. Now that he knows he’s got all night with Niall, he’s in no rush._

 

“Oh- Hell fucking no!” Louis roars, making his way across the Rover like a hurricane with a job to do. “You can turn around and get the fuck out of my pub, Harry Styles!”

To be fair, Harry expected that. He even expected the hand that Louis rears back, fingers splayed wide to grant maximum redness on Harry’s cheek when he lands his strike. Harry closes his eyes and braces himself, but the hit never comes.

“That’s really not going to happen.” Niall hums, making Harry’s eyes pop open to find Niall’s hand wrapped around Louis’ wrist just a few inches away from his face. “Put the claws away before you end up hurting yourself, Lou. Because– and I promise this– You will be the only one that gets hurt.”

“You’re not welcome here either, Horan.” Louis hisses, wrenching his hand free in order to shove a chastising finger right back in Niall’s face. “You fucking stole my bloody car!”

“You leant it to me.” Niall says with a roll of his eyes. “I just kept it longer than intended because the storm lasted a long time and the car got stuck in the mud. It didn’t even get hit too badly by the hail. And I’ve spent all morning digging it out, hosing it off, and cleaning it for you, so I don’t see the big deal, since Liam still had his truck anyways.”

“The big deal is that you stole my bloody car!” Louis growls. “You stole from me, and this one assaulted my husband, and neither of you is welcome here! If I see either of you two so much as look in the direction of this pub again, I will shove my-”

“And- That’s enough out of my husband.” Liam says, rushing over and clamping a hand over Louis’ mouth. Louis looks positively livid, if his drawn eyebrows and tight squint are anything to go by, but Liam pays him no mind. “What can we do for you guys?”

“I, uh– I came to apologize.” Harry says quietly, dropping his eyes to the floor. “I’m really sorry for how I treated you when you came to my cottage. I never should have said the things that I said, and I really shouldn’t have ever laid a hand on you. That wasn’t right, and I regret how I handled it. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Liam nods. “As long as you promise to stop cutting me out, green eyes. Maybe talk to me more than a handful of times every few years? Preferably without physically throwing me?”

“You’ll have to come back to my place.” Harry says with a shrug. “I’m definitely not interested in finding out what it is that your husband wants to shove somewhere on my person. He’s really not my type, and he doesn’t look like he’d be hung enough to satisfy me anyways.”

Niall snorts out a laugh next to him, turning to bury his face in Harry’s shoulder while both Liam and Louis’ eyes widen in shock.

“Did– Did you-” Louis stammers, pulling Liam’s hand away from his mouth. “Did you just make a bloody joke? You?”

“More of an observation, really.” Harry hums. “The joke is the idea of the two of us sleeping together.”

Niall loses all sense of composure at that, fisting both hands in Harry’s shirt and leaning into the brunet while he tries to use Harry’s chest to somewhat muffle the sounds of his laughter. It doesn’t really help much, because Liam is doing a full on belly-laugh, clutching at his own knees for support.

Harry’s arm wraps around Niall’s waist, almost by instinct, and the action doesn’t go unnoticed by Louis, who arches a brow, but says nothing of it, instead muttering, “If I’d known it would only take having the leprechaun back to get you to stop being a total brooding wanker, I would have hunted him down myself.”

“Who says I’ve stopped being a total brooding wanker?” Harry scoffs, making Liam laugh even harder, and even Louis crack a smile.

Niall stops laughing though, his expression going soft as he leans in and presses their lips together. Harry goes completely still, freezing on the spot in shock that Niall is doing this in public already, but only for a second before he melts into it and lets Niall have his way. If this is how he wants to tell people, it’s fine by Harry.

“None of that, pet.” Niall murmurs, slurs out against his lips in a whisper that sounds like a shout in the silence that’s settled over the entirety of the pub. “How many times have I got to tell you to stop putting down my favorite person?”

“Even you have to admit I’m a wanker.” Harry chuckles, pressing their lips together in quick peck this time. “In fact, you called me a wanker just a few days ago.”

“Yeah, but that was like– fond.” Niall huffs, a pout forming on his lips. “I get to call you a wanker because I mean it affectionately.”

“Oi, buzz off. You’re not the only one that means it affectionately, you know.” Louis says with a roll of his eyes. “I only call our dear Harold a brooding wanker from the very bottom of my heart.”

“You’re both idiots.” Harry giggles. “Niall, haven’t you got something to say to Louis now?”

“Sorry I stole your car.” Niall mumbles like a chastised little boy, holding out the keys towards Louis. “That was wrong.”

“That couldn’t have sounded less sincere if you’d used one of those little Stephen Hawking talky-boxes to say it.” Louis snorts, snatching his keys away from Niall. “You two can stay, but if you get up to anything, then I’ll have your heads mounted above the bar.”

“What’ll you do with the rest of us?” Harry snorts. “Grind us up and put us in the shepherd’s pie?”

“Would probably taste better for it.” Niall grins.

“I have been waiting two years to say this to you, Horan.” Louis growls, narrowing his eyes dangerously and jabbing his finger into Niall’s sternum. “You’re fired.”

“Well, shite.” Niall laughs.

 

“So– What exactly is this?” Louis asks, gesturing between Niall and Harry from the other side of the booth that they’ve sat in to avoid all of the prying eyes. “What’s going on exactly? Are you shagging? Is the sex any good?”

“Respectively– Something, something again, absolutely none of your business, bloody brilliant.” Niall hums, grinning widely at what he probably perceives as being witty, rather than just cheeky.

“Oh my god.” Harry groans, smacking Niall on the arm, which Niall uses as an opportunity to capture his hand and lace their fingers together. “Behave yourself, Niall!”

“Since when has Niall ever behaved himself?” Liam chuckles. “You can’t ask him for miracles, just because he’s your boyfriend.”

Harry flushes at that, ducks his head down to cover the scarlet that’s rouging up his cheeks. This is why he didn’t want to do this yet. This is why he wasn’t sure if they should tell anyone. He doesn’t know what they are, and now someone has decided to put a label on it, and he’s not sure if it fits.

Because there are dozens of labels that could have fit Niall’s relationship to Harry at different points – friend, lover, family, hero, rival, torturer, destroyer, savior, and so many more. And there are labels that Harry has long dreamed of being able to give to Niall - boyfriend, partner, husband - but he’s never wanted to figure out what the status of their relationship is on the spot. He’s never wanted to hear a word and wonder if it applies to them before they’ve figured it out for themselves.

“Do you like the way that sounds, pet?” Niall asks, ducks his head in so that his lips are brushing over Harry’s ear when he speaks the question to make sure that it’s just between the two of them. “Or do you need to take some time to figure that out for yourself?”

“What do you think about it?” Harry asks him, a bit too scared to turn and meet his eyes.

“Think I rather like the sound of it, personally.” Niall hums. “But I can wait until you’re ready.”

“Think I rather like the sound of it too.” Harry admits with a sheepish smile.

“Then, as your boyfriend, I’ll try and behave myself.” Niall laughs. “No promises though. Think I rather like misbehaving with you, as well.”

“Oh god, it’s like incest.” Louis mutters, yelping just a moment later when Niall’s eyes turn from joyful to fiery. “Oi! Don’t bloody kick me in my own bloody pub!”

“Don’t deserve to be kicked, then.” Niall growls.

“Liam, throw the blond one out.” Louis huffs.

“No.” Liam snorts. “He’s right. That was an awful thing to say.”

“Are you saying that it’s not like incest?” Louis scoffs.

“I’m saying that it’s not my place to have an opinion on their relationship, and it’s not yours either.” Liam says firmly. “It’s like you’ve never heard the saying, ‘if you haven’t got anything nice to say-’”

“Then shut the hell up about whose dick I’m sucking before I aim the next kick at your bollocks.” Niall finishes for Liam.

“You are not trying to behave yourself at all.” Harry hisses, smacking at Niall’s shoulder.

“Well I’m not going to sit here and have him say that it’s like we’re fucking our siblings or something.” Niall grumbles. “I’m not going to be made to feel bad for loving you, or have somebody tell us that it’s wrong that we’re together. Especially not when I finally get to call you mine.”

“I’m not upset about you defending us.” Harry sighs, knocking his forehead against Niall’s. “Just don’t add in unnecessary shite about what we get up to behind closed doors, yeah?”

“Oh.” Niall giggles. “Yeah, I’ll try to be better about that. Sorry. Just kind of want everyone to know how lucky I am, since I’m the one that gets to see you naked and touch it all.”

“Do you even know what ‘behave’ means?” Harry huffs.

“Have you two quite finished?” Louis asks with a roll of his eyes. “Because if I hear any more, I’m going to have nightmares.”

“I might be persuaded to shut my gob for some fish and chips.” Niall grins. “Proper greasy and hot out of the fryer.”

“Two of the Horan-Styles usuals, coming up ASAP.” Louis mutters, climbing out of the booth quickly and scurrying back towards the kitchen.

“How did I get stuck eating your greasy order of junk-food?” Harry groans.

“Hey!” Liam pouts.

“Sorry. I just– I’ve been eating healthy for a long time now.” Harry sighs. “Fish and chips definitely doesn’t fit into my diet.”

“One basket of fish and chips isn’t going to ruin your body.” Niall hums. “Trust me. I’ve seen it.”

“Easy for you to say.” Harry scoffs. “You’ve always been able to eat whatever you want without gaining a pound. I work out for twenty hours or more per week, and I still can’t get rid of my love handles.”

“Good.” Niall smirks, sneaking his hand around Harry’s back to grab at one of the aforementioned love handles. “I quite like these, and I don’t want them going anywhere.”

“This is so surreal.” Liam mumbles. “Never thought I’d be seeing this in a million years. I mean– I’m really happy for you guys, but– Jesus, this is not what I ever expected. I was so unsure about you two seeing each other again that I wasn’t even willing to take Louis’ bet on one of you ending up dead while you were trapped together, because the odds were in his favor.”

“How did you even know we were trapped together?” Harry asks.

“Louis has GPS in his car, which we used to track it when Niall wasn’t back by the next morning.” Liam answers. “I almost went up there a few times myself, but I wasn’t sure that my old truck could handle the mud on that road, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to tow Louis’ car out either way.”

“But how did you know he wasn’t visiting Gemma or something?” Harry questions.

Liam just levels him with an unimpressed stare and says, “Be serious, green eyes.”

The grip of Niall’s hand on Harry’s knee tightens, but his smile remains as easy as ever and he adds, “That really isn’t very logical, pet. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that I was there for you. And, somehow, that even extends to include our Louis.”

“Careful.” Liam chuckles. “My husband isn’t exactly known for his forgiving nature.”

“Might have a big glob of spit in your drink.” Harry nods along.

“I’ve had worse.” Niall snorts.

“You’re disgusting.” Harry giggles.

“Maybe.” Niall hums, ducking in quick to press their lips together in a fleeting kiss. “But I bet you’ve got a heart-on right now anyways.”

And, well– He isn’t wrong. Harry’s is so big that he’s sure that everyone can see it through his shirt right now. So he rolls his eyes, but nods for Niall anyways.

“You two do remember that I’m sitting right here, right?” Liam asks, waving his hands in front of them. “Or that you’re in public?”

“Or that I’ll kick you both out if you keep up these heart eyes and all the under-the-table fondling?” Louis huffs, showing up out of nowhere while Harry is too busy trying to hide his blush in Niall’s neck to notice, and sets down two baskets of fish and chips, followed by two glasses of water. “My stomach can only handle so much.”

“Like we haven’t been witness to you two being disgustingly in love, or even downright filthy, a thousand times before.” Niall scoffs.

“We’re husbands.” Louis fires back, crawling into Liam’s lap. “And we own this place. We’re allowed to be disgusting together.”

“Damn right.” Liam beams, tightening his grip around Louis’ waist and making the smaller boy squeal as Liam chases his lips until they meet in a kiss so full of love Harry can feel it like a fog in the air.

“What do you think, pet?” Niall hums. “Wanna outdo them?”

“Wouldn’t mind trying.” Harry returns with a giggle that Niall quickly swallows all too eagerly.

 

“We really do need to get going, Ni.” Harry sighs once Liam and Louis both get up to handle the lunch rush. “We need to start looking at flats for you so that you don’t get stuck staying on your boat any longer than is necessary, yeah?”

It’s not that he wants to leave, because he actually doesn’t. He’d forgotten how much he actually enjoys Liam and Louis’ company. He’d forgotten how much fun he could have just sitting and talking to them, listening to Louis’ wild tales and having Liam whisper the truth about the events in his ear. He’d forgotten how funny Liam is without trying to be, and how clever Louis can be. He’d forgotten what it’s like to have friends, and he doesn’t want to leave them behind now that he’s remembered.

But Niall is his priority. Niall's health and safety and comfort come before spending time with Liam and Louis, and that means finding Niall somewhere to live that doesn't float.

“You just want to get it all done today because you’re having to borrow Gemma’s car, and she’s threatened to cut off your balls if anything happens to it.” Niall snorts.

Also that, yes.

“You need a flat, Ni.” Harry insists. “Winter is going to be here really soon, and that means that you’re going to freeze your arse off if you don’t have a proper living space. It’s a really, really nice arse, so it would be a shame.”

“Fair point.” Niall chuckles. “I’ll just go use the loo real quick, and then we’ll be off, yeah?”

“Alright.” Harry nods, scooting out of the booth to let Niall climb out.

He grips his fingers into Harry’s jumper and hauls him down into a surprise kiss, licking into Harry’s mouth when the brunet lets out a gasp of shock before drawing back and giggling out, “I’ll be right back. Don’t miss me too much.”

“Just how long of a wee do you plan on taking?” Harry asks.

“I’m going to have to train you into doing the normal, cutesy couple shite, aren’t I?” Niall laughs.

“That is absolutely not going to happen.” Harry scoffs. “I will never be cutesy. Not even for you.”

“We’ll see.” Niall hums, pulling Harry back down for another quick kiss before turning on his heel and marching off, leaving Harry to stare after him with his eyes shamelessly glued to the blond’s arse, and a ridiculously fond smile on his lips that he doesn’t even try to fight.

“So– How’s that going?” Liam asks, taking a page from his husband’s book and appearing at Harry’s side like a ninja.

“I’m not entirely sure, if I’m being honest.” Harry admits. “It’s good for now, but everything is still really new and tentative. I’m kind of waiting for everything to blow up in my face.”

“I can tell.” Liam says quietly. “How can I put this? It’s– It’s a bit obvious that you’re holding back, green eyes.”

“Well, I’ve got good reasons for that, Li.” Harry sighs. “A lot of very good reasons.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Liam nods. “And I don’t blame you for being hesitant.”

“Then why have you got the ‘I’m disappointed in you’ face on right now?” Harry asks him.

“Because I think that being hesitant is what’s going to make it blow up in your face, green eyes.” Liam says gently, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezing. “There’s no way that anyone can look at him when he’s around you and not know that he’s arse over teakettle for you. Hell– He watched you eat your fish and chips like you were some sort of demi-god performing a miracle. He’s so completely and totally gone for you that his eyes might as well be replaced with giant, throbbing, cartoon hearts.

“And it’s pretty clear that you care about him too. That you love him, even. I’m not saying that you come across like you aren’t invested in the relationship, or anything like that. It’s just– You kind of look like a terrified rabbit. I’m worried that you’re going to fall back into your old habits, and run like hell at the first sign of trouble. I’m worried that you’re going to let the fear of getting hurt again drive you away from something that you’ve wanted for almost as long as I’ve known you. I watched you throw away a good, loving relationship out of fear once, and I don’t want to see you hurt yourself that way again.”

“If I was going to let fear stop me, it would have happened before I agreed to try anything with him.” Harry mumbles. “I’m terrified, yeah, but he makes me brave enough to try.”

“Just– Just don’t hurt him, alright?” Liam requests.

“Me hurt him?” Harry scoffs. “I’m the one with the history of being hurt. Not the other way around. I’m the one that stuck around through his boyfriends, and who gave up a relationship to be near him, and who got left behind with nothing but a three sentence note.”

“Yeah, I know.” Liam nods. “But you aren’t the only one that was hurt, you know? You hurt Niall quite a few times as well, Harry.”

“What are you-” Harry starts, only to cut himself off when Niall emerges from the hallway. He ambles over to the bar and starts saying his goodbyes to Louis, but Harry knows that means that he probably still has a minute or two. “What are you talking about?”

“Over the last few days, ever since Niall disappeared up to your place, I’ve been thinking.” Liam sighs. “I’ve been thinking about the two of you, and going over everything from the beginning. I think he was already in love with you by the time we met him. At the time, Lou and I thought that it was just a crush, but I don’t think so anymore.

“Remember the first time that you met Louis and me? Before that, I was Niall’s favorite. He used to get annoyed with Louis all the time, and, on more than one occasion, refused to speak directly to him and would only use me as a proxy. Then, something shifted in the relationship between the three of us after you met Lou and me.

“He stopped talking to me as much, and started letting Louis get away with murder just so that they wouldn’t argue. He wouldn’t meet my eyes when we talked, but I used to catch him glaring at me in my peripheral. Back then I just assumed that I did something to offend him, and I just tried to make up for it by being really nice until he forgave me. I think he was jealous, though.

“And I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out why he would be jealous, because it never made any sense to me. Even if he thought that you were attracted to me, despite the fact that you barely even glanced in my direction, it was obvious to everyone that I’m in love with Louis. He had nothing to be jealous of, but, looking back, it would flare up again every time you were around all three of us. Then I finally figured out what it was. I made you laugh.”

“So?” Harry snorts.

“So– Think about it, Harry.” Liam says with a roll of his eyes. “Every time I made you laugh, Niall would get all grumpy or decide to make himself the sole focus of your attention. He couldn’t stand it. It used to drive him absolutely mad if anyone else was the reason that you smiled.”

“He’s also not a fan of you calling me ‘green eyes’.” Harry chuckles, rubbing at his knee as he remembers each and every time that Niall’s fingers tightened on his leg when Liam would say that. “I don’t see your overall point, though.”

“I’m saying that you were Niall’s first love, and he watched over the years as you took a parade of lovers that could fill up a block of flats in London.” Liam says, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “You two have hurt each other in a lot of ways, but the worst one was the dynamic you created between you. You both were so reliant on the intense emotional intimacy between you, and you both hero-worshipped each other, which made you both absolutely craved the other’s approval so much that it was unhealthy.”

“He never ‘hero-worshipped’ me.” Harry scoffs.

“You’re wrong.” Liam says adamantly. “Niall was your knight in shining armor, but you were like the sun to him. You were the closest thing that he had to family as a kid. His mother and brother didn’t have much to do with him, and his father neglected him to the point of abuse. You, though– You helped him in every way that you could, but you never pitied him. You were everything that Niall needed, just the way that he was everything that you needed.

“The thing is, you’ve always been so focused on what he did for you, that you never realized everything that you did for him. You lifted each other up. You made each other stronger. And if you can find a way to get that back, without letting yourselves put each other on a pedestal, and if you can manage not to let fear get the better of either of you, then I think you could have a real chance at a long and happy future together.”

“You’ve put an awful lot of thought into this, considering that you only found out that Niall and I are together like– An hour ago.” Harry mumbles.

“Ever since we found out that he was up there, I was hoping that the two of you would work things out.” Liam admits. “I mean– I was pretty sure that I was going to be eulogizing one of you, but I had hope. I’ve always had hope that you two would figure things out at some point and end up together. And Louis may give you some flack about this, because he actually lives to be a shit, but he’s happy too.”

“If he makes one more incest joke, I will literally fold him around until his head is lodged in his own arse.” Harry huffs.

“I’ll work on it.” Liam giggles.

“You two done prattling on yet?” Niall asks, sauntering over. “Or do we need to find you two a room where you can be alone?”

“See what I meant?” Liam smirks.

“Just imagine if you’d been making me laugh.” Harry grins.

“Oh god, he’d mount you right here.” Liam snorts.

“What the bloody hell are you two on about?” Niall asks confusedly.

“Don’t worry about it.” Liam says with a secretive smile. “See you around, green eyes. Niall.”

“See you around, brown eyes.” Harry hums, leaning in and planting a quick peck to Liam’s cheek so that he can whisper, “You’re right. I’ll try not to hurt him either.”

“Alright.” Niall grumbles, stomping forward and grabbing Harry by the wrist to drag him away. “We’ve got flats to look at, yeah? We should get on that now. Like– Right bloody now.”


	30. Chapter 30

Harry’s going to die. His knees are going to give out, and he’s going to fall to the floor, bash his brains in, and die. All in all, it’s not a terrible way to go.

Apparently, Niall can sense Harry’s impending doom, and takes quick action to remedy this. His fingers hook into Harry’s belt-loops, and he steers him backwards from the center of the room until something hits the back of Harry’s knees and makes him fall anyways.

His arse hits the cushions of the couch, and his shoulders collide with the corner between the armrest and the back of the sofa. It hurts a bit, really, but he doesn’t actually have the mental capacity to think about that right now. What’s left of his brain is too thoroughly occupied with trying to process the way that Niall is filling up all of his senses.

Again.

Niall’s hands are already working open the zip on Harry’s jeans, and he’s not quite sure why he even bothered putting them on anymore. It would have saved them both some trouble and frustration.

“God, why does it have to be so hard to get these off when you’re– hard?” Niall mutters against Harry’s lips. “These fucking skintight jeans are brilliant on you until I’m trying to take them off.”

“You being in my lap probably doesn’t he- Ah!” Harry cuts himself off with a strangled moan as Niall manages to shove his hand inside the brunet’s pants to wrap around his dick.

“What was that you were saying, pet?” Niall hums, a smirk sliding into place on his lips as he starts properly working his fist over Harry’s cock.

To be honest, Harry doesn’t really remember. His mind was already kind of a mess even before Niall started kissing him out of nowhere for the fourth time in as many flats.

In the first flat, Niall had convinced Harry that he just wanted to know how comfortable the bed would be for the two of them to sleep in, which led to a long snog session that ended with them grinding against each other and cumming in their fucking pants like fifteen year olds. The second flat had a nice shower, which Niall insisted they should use to clean up after their misadventures at the first flat while their clothes went in the wash. ‘Cleaning up’ turned into mutual hand-jobs and snogging until the water ran cold. At the third flat, Harry was starting to catch on, but that didn’t stop him from letting Niall bend him over the kitchen counter and use olive oil as lube to finger him to completion.

He hasn’t had this many orgasms in a day since he was with Ashton and Luke. Hell, he hadn’t had any orgasms at all for the last two years until yesterday, and his brain is having trouble catching back up to speed. He’s not really complaining.

So Harry’s only reply is an inelegant grunt of, “Ung!”

“If you can’t put your mouth to good use, how about I find a way to do it with mine instead?” Niall purrs into Harry’s ear.

And then he’s sliding down out of Harry’s lap, and Harry’s senses aren’t all filled to overcapacity with NiallNiallNiall, but he’s not any less overwhelmed. No, he doesn’t even have a second to begin putting his head on right before Niall is running the flat of his tongue along the underside of his cock, and all semblance of coherent thought scampers the fuck off to god only knows where.

And there’s something deliciously, sinfully, impossibly dirty about the way that Harry’s basically still fully dressed, except for his cock sticking out of the front of his jeans. That’s nothing though, when compared to the way that Niall’s eyes look when he locks them with Harry’s. Because they’re clouded, yes, with lust and longing and hunger, but they’ve also got a kind of clear, sharp intensity that shakes Harry to his core.

Niall’s not just following the flow of desire between them. He’s doing everything very deliberately. He’s taking Harry apart, piece by piece, and he wants Harry to know that he knows that he can do it. And– Fuck – if that isn’t just the hottest fucking thing.

The fact that Harry’s already had three orgasms today apparently doesn’t matter to his body, because Niall has only been sucking him down for a few minutes before he starts to tip over that edge again. He has the wherewithal to warn Niall with a whimper of the blond’s name and a tug on his hair, but they both know that he knows it’s coming anyways. Niall’s rhythm doesn’t falter in the slightest as Harry starts rapidly approaching the point of no return, but he does moan, deep in the back of his throat, and it’s enough to send Harry plummeting over the edge with a low groan of Niall’s name.

When Harry recovers and his eyes focus enough to actually see, rather than just giving him a vague, blurry impression of shapes, Niall is resting his cheek on Harry’s knee, and looking up at the brunet with a mix of emotions that Harry is too frazzled to even begin interpreting. One that he can identify easily, though, is fondness.

“Give me – a minute – and I’ll – take care – of you.” Harry pants out.

“No need.” Niall hums, holding up a cupped hand that holds the product of Niall’s own apparent orgasm. “Wanked myself off while I sucked you. I couldn’t not do it when you were making all those pretty sounds, now could I, pet?”

“You know– I’d like to be an active participant in our sex life, at some point.” Harry sighs, putting himself back in his pants. “Starting to feel a bit like a sex toy, if I’m being honest.”

“No! Pet, that’s– Shit– I-” Niall stammers, reaching over towards the table to grab a tissue out of the box to wipe his hand off. Thank god they’re only checking out furnished flats. All of this would have been a lot more difficult otherwise. He wipes at his hand furiously and then turns back to Harry, taking a deep breath before saying, “Harry, I never meant to make you feel like that. I’m sorry. If you’re not comfortable with all of this happening yet, then we can slow down. I didn’t realize-”

“That’s not it.” Harry cuts him off, shaking his head. “It’s just– You keep initiating everything, and then I just end up lying there and having an orgasm while you do everything. I’m fine with us getting off together, but I’d like to actually participate occasionally, rather than just being there for it.”

“I’m sorry.” Niall repeats, tucking himself back into his jeans before he crawls back up into Harry’s lap again. “I just– I just really like making you feel good, pet.”

“It doesn’t really help that it feels a bit like you’re marking your territory.” Harry mumbles.

“Give me a bit more credit than that, won’t you?” Niall huffs.

“Well, what am I supposed to think, Niall?” Harry asks quietly. “You’ve jumped down my pants four times since we left the Rover after you got all jealous and possessive because of Liam. Either you’re marking your territory, or you’re just blowing off this hunt for a flat by – by-”

“Blowing you?” Niall snorts.

“Exactly.” Harry sighs. “I can’t tell if it’s this whole process that you don’t take seriously, or just me, but I’m trying to help you, and it feels like you don’t even care.”

“I don’t care.” Niall says with a shrug. And– Wow– That feels a bit like a slap to the face. “And before you go getting all twitchy and offended, let me explain, alright?”

“Whatever.” Harry mutters.

“I don’t care where I end up living.” Niall says softly, leaning in and stringing kisses down Harry’s jaw. “It doesn’t matter to me one bit. For all I care, you can pick a place, sign my name to the lease, and hand me a key. I’d prefer it to be in the village, rather than a full town over, like this one, but that’s just for practicality, seeing as I don’t actually have a car.”

“Shite.” Harry hisses. “I knew I was forgetting something when I picked this place. It’s just that it comes with a big telly and all of the furnishings are more to your taste.”

“And in the last place, it was the kitchen, because I like to cook.” Niall chuckles, pressing his lips against Harry’s for a quick peck. “And before that it was the bathroom, because I needed a proper tub for my knee, but I also prefer a separate shower. And in the first flat it was because the bedroom was properly gorgeous, and it had that balcony coming off of it that overlooked the sea. I know. I know that you’re trying to show me places based on the things I like, and I love you for it.

“You trying to take care of me is part of the reason that I’ve ‘jumped down your pants four times since we left the Rover’. It is an incredible turn on that you would do all this just so that I can live somewhere that I’m comfortable. The reality of it, though, is that it doesn’t really matter in the end. It’s just a place for me to eat and sleep. I’ve lived on a boat for so long that anything you have to show me would be an improvement.”

“But that’s exactly why I’m trying to find you a good place to live.” Harry says quietly. “Because you’ve been living on a boat for so long. I just – I just want to find something that’ll make you happy, and give you as much of what you want as I can. I haven’t been going about this right, though. I should have started this process by asking you want you want to do.”

“Like– For the search?” Niall asks.

“No.” Harry says, shaking his head. “Like– What do you want to do with your life, Niall? Are you going to keep working on the Ram? Are you going back to the Rover? Did you have something else in mind instead?”

“I, um– I don’t know.” Niall admits. “I haven’t thought about it too much. A few things have crossed my mind, here and there.”

“Like what?” Harry asks.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me?” Niall asks weakly.

“I’ll do my best.” Harry grins. “Can’t promise I won’t have anything cheeky to say if you tell me that you want to open up a sex-toy shop or something.”

“Oh god.” Niall snorts, burying his face in Harry’s neck as he starts to giggle. “Can you imagine? My only customer would be Louis.”

“Mm, I think people around here are kinkier than you give them credit for.” Harry chuckles. “Sleepy little village like ours is bound to have some secrets hiding behind closed doors.”

“I’d rather not think about the sex lives of the people around here.” Niall says with an exaggerated shiver. “The only people I want to think about having it off are the two of us. A sex-toy shop would completely ruin my sex drive when old Mrs. Hubble comes in looking for a big, vibrating, eggplant-sized dildo or something.”

“Oh my god!” Harry laughs, throwing his head back to cackle while Niall loses it in his neck. “You’re horrid!”

“You’re the one that brought up opening a sex-toy shop.” Niall muses. “That’s definitely not something that I had considered.”

“What had you considered, then?” Harry asks. “I promise, I won’t take the piss out of you for it.”

“Some of it is kind of daft.” Niall sighs. “Like – Like, I thought about becoming a tattoo artist for a minute.”

“That’s– That’s really not what I expected.” Harry says, considering the idea.

“Yeah, I tried to draw a monkey when the idea crossed my mind, and Bress thought that it was a gremlin.” Niall snorts. “Told you it was daft. I got over that one a while ago. Think I just wanted something that reminded me of you, honestly.”

“What else, then?” Harry asks.

“I’ve thought about finishing my degree.” Niall mumbles. “Like– Online classes. Not going back to school.”

“And you thought I’d make fun of you for that?” Harry questions.

“No.” Niall says, running his fingers over Harry’s collarbones as a way of keeping focused on something other than looking Harry in the eyes. “It’s the last one, because I think that’s the one that I really want to do, if I’m being honest. It’s just a bit– I don’t know– It would be risky, and I’m afraid you’ll think I’m being stupid for thinking about it.”

“Never.” Harry murmurs, tilting up Niall’s face by the chin so that their eyes meet. “Tell me.”

“I want to open a music store.” Niall breathes out. “Like – Like a store to sell instruments, but also where I can do guitar and piano lessons for people.”

“Why in the world would I think that was stupid?” Harry asks gently. “Especially when it’s such a perfect fit for you?”

“You really think so?” Niall asks quietly.

“I do.” Harry nods. “Can you actually play piano well enough to teach people, though? I know that you know a bit, but is it enough to do something like that?”

“Bress taught me a lot more.” Niall sighs, clutching at his necklace. For the first time, the gesture doesn’t make jealousy burn in Harry’s stomach. Instead, sympathy takes its place. “He didn’t bring much with him on the boat, but he brought his keyboard. He was– He was a rugger when he was young, and then he rode a scholarship through school and got his business degree. He loved music, though. I think it’s what he really wished he’d done with his life.

“We fought about a lot of things, but sometimes things were good, and those were the nights that we’d sit out on the deck. I’d play my guitar, and he’d play his keyboard, and everything was kind of nice. Music was the one thing we really had besides sex that didn’t end up with us fighting.”

“Alright, then.” Harry says quietly, and he’s feeling a bit of that jealousy again, but Niall’s ring is sitting warm in his pocket, and it takes the edge off. “If that’s what you want to do, then you should do it. It’s going to be tough, but I think you can do it. I can help with a lot of the business aspects, because my father taught me some stuff, and Gemma can fill in the information that I can’t.”

“I’m going to have to sell the Ram, though.” Niall whispers. “I have a little bit of Bressie’s money left over from salvaging the Ram, but not enough to finance the rent on a store and all of the merchandise.”

“Or you could find a business partner.” Harry offers.

“I can’t even think of anyone around the village who would have that kind of money, let alone a desire to open up a-” Niall starts, only to cut himself off and narrow his eyes dangerously at Harry when the realization settles in. “No.”

“Why not?” Harry asks.

“Because I don’t want you thinking that I want anything to do with your money, Harry.” Niall huffs. “I can do this myself.”

“Niall-” Harry sighs. “I’m not proposing I just give you the money. I know you wouldn’t go for that. I’d give you the startup capital, and then you’d pay it back until you’re in the black, at which point, the business would be all yours. Isn’t it better than selling the Ram?”

“I’ll think about it.” Niall agrees, though it sounds reluctant. “For now– Let’s just focus on finding a place for me to live, alright?”

“Alright.” Harry nods. “So – What do you want in a flat?”

“I told you already.” Niall says, climbing out of Harry’s lap and offering him a hand up, which Harry gladly takes. “I don’t care. It’s just a place for me to eat and sleep.”

He picks up his mess of tissues and walks them into the kitchen to toss in the bin, while Harry grabs their coats from the entry. He slips his feet into his boots, and picks up the stack of papers that Gemma had shoved into his hands with a kiss on the cheek and a wave over her shoulder before rushing back off with a mobile attached to each of her ears, and a tablet being precariously held between one hand and an elbow. She really is a wonder, and she scares Harry more than a little bit.

“The telly was definitely a nice touch about this place, though.” Niall hums as they make their way to the car.

“I haven’t gone through all of these, so I’m not completely sure if we have one, but maybe we can find you a place with a loft over a storefront?” Harry offers. “That way your business would be just downstairs, and you wouldn’t have to worry about any kind of commute.”

“Sure.” Niall shrugs noncommittally. “Of course, if you can’t find anything like that, I don’t mind walking a little ways.”

And, really, Harry’s mood is starting to cloud over like the sky is rapidly starting to as well. There’s something roiling around in his gut, and he can’t tell if it’s apprehension or frustration or just a general feeling of ominousness. It feels like there’s something sitting in his chest, and the storm clouds that are rolling in feel like they’re symbolically reflecting that. He doesn’t like it.

“I know you said that you don’t care, Niall, but it would be nice if you helped a little bit.” Harry mutters when they’re about halfway back to the village, and he can’t hold it in anymore. “I’m doing all this for you, because I want you to be happy.”

“A flat isn’t what’s going to make me happy, pet.” Niall says gently, slipping his hand over Harry’s on the gear shift. “You are. I don’t care if you stick me in a studio with a shite kitchen and no tub where I have to walk half an hour to work every day, as long as you’re in my life. None of the rest of it matters.”

“It does, though.” Harry sighs. “I know that, right now, it doesn’t seem like it, but it will matter, Niall. You’ll want somewhere that you feel comfortable. You’ll want something that feels like home. Just – Just do something for me, alright? It’s something that my mum used to do with clients. Close your eyes.”

“Alright.” Niall chuckles, cupping his hands over his eyes just because he’s a cheeky arsehole.

“Picture your dream home.” Harry tells him. “Don’t think about budget or anything like that. Just – Just picture what you want most in your home, and tell me.”

“It’s a house.” Niall hums. “It’s got a great view of the water. It’s quiet and secluded, but it’s not too far from the village.”

“That’s a good start.” Harry smiles. “Keep going.”

“It’s a bit old, but it’s got character.” Niall muses. “It’s only got one bedroom, but that’s all that’s really necessary. And it’s a bit run down, but that just gives me a bunch of projects to work on.”

“You do realize that a dream home is supposed to be a bit more focused on the amenities.” Harry scoffs.

“Shut it.” Niall snorts. “This is my dream home. If you want to know about the amenities though, I guess I can list them. It’s got a warm shower now, and a severely underused kitchen, until I came along.”

“Niall-” Harry breathes out as he pulls over to the side of the road when he starts to understand what Niall is getting at.

“And there’s a cat who likes me better than she likes her owner.” Niall continues, despite the warning in Harry’s tone. “But that’s okay, because I love him enough for both me and the cat. And the bed is a bit small, especially since the cat takes half of it up for herself, but that just gives me an excuse to hold him closer.”

“Stop.” Harry chokes out, putting on the parking brake and climbing out of the car before Niall can say anything else. He staggers away from the car, and thanks the universe that nobody seems to be on the road while he’s trying to catch his breath from Niall’s insane idea.

“Get in the bloody car before it starts bloody raining!” Niall calls after him.

“Shut up!” Harry hisses, whirling on him.

He can feel that he looks crazy. He knows that his hair is sticking out wildly because of the fingers he’s run through it, and his eyebrows have practically shot off of his forehead, and Niall must be able to see the whites all the way around his irises. He must look absolutely mad, but he doesn’t care.

“Harry, please.” Niall begs. “Just get in the car. Pretend I never said anything.”

“How can I pretend that you didn’t basically just ask to move in with me?” Harry asks, yells, shouts far louder than is strictly necessary in this situation. And he knows that he’s spilling over the edge, but he can’t help it. He feels like he’s coming unhinged, and he’s losing control, until he sees Niall flinch. All of the energy pours out of him at once, and his body feels like he’s deflating. “How can you just suggest that so easily?”

“I’m sorry.” Niall says nervously, kicking at the ground.

“Answer the question, Niall.” Harry demands with a weak, watery, wavering voice. His intent is clear, though, even if his tone isn’t. “Don’t apologize. Just answer the question.”

“You asked me what I wanted.” Niall sighs, apparently giving up on his attempt to get Harry back into the car and walking over to stand in front of Harry. “You asked me what my dream is, and it’s living with you. I didn’t say that we had to do it, pet. I just answered what you asked me with the truth.”

“It’s crazy.” Harry breathes out.

“I know.” Niall nods.

“We’re moving too fast.” Harry mumbles. “Everything is happening so fucking fast, and I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“I know.” Niall repeats.

“No, Niall, you don’t.” Harry mutters. “You don’t know. I’m terrified. I’m scared out of my mind right now, and you don’t get it, because you aren’t the one that was left behind. I was. I’m the one who woke up to that fucking note. I’m the one who’s been alone for the last two years. I’m the one who’s so scared to close his eyes at night, because I don’t know if you’ll be there when I wake up.

“Two weeks ago, I knew what my life was. I knew you were never coming back, and I could handle that. A week ago, you showed up at my door in the pouring rain and you turned my entire fucking world upside down. Three days ago, I wanted you to leave and never come back. Two days ago, I let myself believe that something between us might finally be possible. Yesterday, I almost lost my mind because I thought you might leave me again. Four hours ago, I decided that I liked the word boyfriend when it comes to you, because maybe that’ll give you a reason not to disappear again. And– And two minutes ago, you suggest moving in together like it isn’t the craziest fucking thing in the world.

“And everything is moving at warp speed, and I have to sprint just to keep up. I’ve barely had time to wrap my mind around anything, and we just keep going further and further and further. But the scariest fucking thing, is that I want it. I want you to fucking move in with me, because this is moving too fast, yeah, but it’s also been so fucking long that I’ve wanted to properly be with you. I think I’ve wanted this since I was ten years old, in one way or another, but I’m terrified that the rug is going to get pulled out from under my feet. I’m terrified of what happens when I say yes, and you finally slow down, and realize that this isn’t what you want.”

“I almost died, Harry.” Niall murmurs, cupping Harry’s cheek. “That day on the boat, I almost died. Since then, I haven’t wanted to waste a bloody second. I’m sorry that I’ve been pushing things too fast, but that’s only because I know how limited and precious our time is, and I want as much of it as I can get with you, the way things always should have been. The way things could have been if I hadn’t been too scared to tell you I was in love with you back when we were young, before Zayn and Ashton and Luke and Bressie and everything else. We should have had this amazing life together, and I ruined that opportunity for us, not only by running, but by not telling you back then.

“And now you’re scared again, like when we met, but you’re not scared of everything else. You’re scared of me. You’re scared of what I’m going to do or say or think. You’re scared that I’m going to leave, but all I want to do is be with you for as long as I can. I want as much of a life with you as I’m allowed to have, whether that’s a day, or decades. And I know that you haven’t got any reason to trust me, but I promise that I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’ll kill me if you leave me again.” Harry whispers.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Niall repeats adamantly, cupping both of Harry’s cheeks and wiping away the tears that have begun slipping loose. It’s basically pointless, as the sky opens up a moment later and drops an absolute deluge right from the start. Lightning cracks and thunder roars, and Niall has to raise his voice to add, “I promise!”

And he’s got Gemma’s voice in his head, saying, “ _You’ve wanted this for years, so what’s holding you back_?”

But she’s not alone. There’s Liam, saying, “ _If you can manage not to let fear get the better of either of you, then I think you could have a real chance at a long and happy future together_.”

And his mother’s voice is saying, “ _He’s all yours_.”

And Luke’s voice is saying, “ _When the time comes, make your move. Don’t be afraid_.”

“Let’s do it.” Harry breathes out just before their lips collide, and Harry lets all of the voices in his head get drowned out by the sound of the storm and the hum Niall lets out when Harry licks into his mouth.

 

“Okay, so we’re clear on the plan?” Harry asks, pulling his wet hair to the side in order to look over at Niall.

“You go back to the cottage so that you can run the lighthouse. I batten down the Ram for long-term storage after checking for damage, get everything that I want from her, and then I head over to the Rover and call you.” Niall says offhandedly. “Then you come get me, we go back to the cottage, and give each other as many orgasms as we can before we both collapse from exhaustion.”

“That last part was not in the plan the last time that we went over it.” Harry scoffs.

“I improvised.” Niall says with a grin that practically stretches from ear to ear. “Now get over here and snog me, pet.”

“Gotta make it quick.” Harry hums, leaning over the console to meet Niall’s greedy, kiss swollen lips in a snog that lasts a bit longer than it should when Harry really needs to be getting back to the lighthouse. He can’t help it though. Not when he feels like he’s bursting at the seams with excitement. He pulls back once he’s gone completely out of breath and whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too, pet.” Niall says softly, pecking another kiss to Harry’s lips. “I’ll make this as fast as possible, yeah?”

“Good idea.” Harry nods. “Might actually take you up on that improvisation if you manage to hurry it up enough.”

“Fuck it.” Niall snorts. “Don’t need a damn thing from the boat. Just take me back to the cottage now.”

“Shut up.” Harry giggles. “Go get your stuff, and make sure the boat will survive until you can get a proper look at it. She’s been through quite a bit already.”

“Fine.” Niall huffs. “Be practical. See if I suck your-”

“If you get out of the car in the next five seconds, you can top for the first round, provided you get your hands on some lube.” Harry cuts him off with a smirk.

“Bye. Love you. Call you in twenty minutes after I’ve packed and stolen Liam and Louis’ supply of lube. Radio me when you’re back at the lighthouse so I know you got there safely.” Niall rushes out, pecking Harry haphazardly so that it doesn’t really hit his lips, but it’s close enough. He climbs out of the car and sprints down the dock as best as he can, and Harry shakes his head watching his ridiculous fucking boyfriend.

And, really, he quite likes the way that sounds. Boyfriend. Niall is his boyfriend. He contemplates it for the entire drive back to the cottage, and he contemplates it all the way up the stairs to the lighthouse, and he contemplates it as he turns on the radio and opens up the laptop. He spends so much time contemplating how much he loves the taste and sound and feel of that word as it applies to Niall, that it takes a moment for another word to form in his mind instead when he actually takes in the situation.

No.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Harry hisses once he sees the beacon around the cliffs. It’s not a normal signal transponder. It’s an emergency beacon from a life raft, and Harry’s heart drops down through his stomach.

He grabs the radio and tunes into the frequency being signaled by the beacon.

“This is Styles Tower, responding to emergency beacon November-Hotel-Lima-Lima-Fife, please respond. Repeat, this is Styles Tower, responding to emergency beacon November-Hotel-Lima-Lima-Fife, please respond. Over.” Harry says into the radio, keeping his voice steady despite the panic welling up in his chest.

“Hello?” asks a weak, high voice. “Hello? Is someone there?”

“This is Styles Tower, what is your call-sign? Over.” Harry requests.

“I – I don’t know.” the voice says with a choked sob. “Please, help. My dad hit his head, and he’s not waking up, and I don’t know what to do.”

“What’s your name?” Harry asks, dropping proper maritime communication procedure to talk to the boy in a way he can understand. He sounds young, maybe eight or nine, and Harry has no choice.

“Edward.” the boy says quietly.

“Well, isn’t that a coincidence?” Harry says through a forced laugh. “That’s my middle name, Edward. You can call me Harry, though, alright?”

“O-Okay.” Edward stammers.

“Alright, Edward, can you tell me what happened?” Harry questions.

“The storm came in while my dad was trying to teach me how to fish.” Edward explains. “He fell asleep, and then the storm started, and dad started running around and he slipped when he was putting me in this raft thing because our boat got stuck on the rocks. He hit his head on a bar and fell into the raft. He has a cut, but it’s not bleeding too much. He won’t wake up, though.”

As if things weren’t already bad enough, now the father is injured, and Harry has no way of helping this kid get in to shore. Most emergency rafts are hard enough for adults to steer in a storm like this, let alone for a child. He’s going to have to rely on the coastguard.

Harry hasn’t lost a single soul since he took over, though, and he’s not about to start now.

“Edward?” Harry asks. “I’m going to call some people to help you.”

“No!” Edward yelps. “Please don’t go! I don’t know what to do!”

“I’ll keep this line open, okay?” Harry reassures him. “But I have to call for help, or things might get bad.”

“Geez, pet. What are you trying to do?” a familiar voice crackles through the radio. “Scare the poor kid?”

And, if Harry thought that he was breaking apart already, that knowing the first people he loses in this job are going to be a child and his father, it was nothing. Hearing Niall’s voice come through the speaker, a forced laugh trying to cover up the all too familiar sound of a motor starting up. Harry’s blood runs cold until it freezes in his veins, and he can feel his heart stop beating.

“Wh- What are you doing, Niall?” Harry chokes out.

“We haven’t got time for silly questions, Haz.” Niall says quietly. “Eddie and his da need help.”

“I’m calling the Coastguard, Niall!” Harry hisses into the radio. “Don’t you dare!”

“They haven’t got time, Haz.” Niall sighs. “You and I both know that it’ll take HMCG half an hour to get out there. If they’re that close to the cliffs, then they’re in too much danger to wait.”

“You can’t do this, Niall!” Harry snaps. “Your boat isn’t right for a rescue next to a cliff in a storm like this! It’s too dangerous!”

“I can’t just leave them out there like this. There’s no other option, Haz.” Niall mumbles.

“Yes there is!” Harry growls. “You wait for the HMCG to do their jobs, and don’t act like a daft fool.”

“I can do this.” Niall insists. “But you should go ahead and call the HMCG anyways. I’ll talk Eddie through this while you call, okay? Just don’t take too long. I have some things that I need to tell you.”

“God damn it, Niall.” Harry mutters, setting aside the mouthpiece to grab his handheld to call in his SOS.

It takes a few minutes, reporting in the location, but the Coastguard assigns a ship that was already out on practice maneuvers. It’ll be tight, but they should be able to get there in time from a little ways up the coast.

Throughout the exchange, he hears Niall talking to Edward, helping him figure out what to do with the emergency kit that’s packed with the raft in order to help his father. And Harry used to be good with kids, but Niall’s always been better. He’d be a good father, and Harry wants to see that happen, somewhere down the line.

He wants to see Niall open his store, and smile whenever kids get their lessons down properly. He wants to see the laughter lines by Niall’s eyes become a permanent feature on his face. He wants to see Niall grumble and huff in the morning, scratching his arse as he makes eggs in the nude because they’ve both woken up too early, but see his lazy smile stretch his lips when Harry hands him a cup of tea with a kiss. He wants to see Niall standing on the other side of a priest, eyes shining while he recites whatever cheeky vows he’d probably written at the last moment.

Harry wants forever with Niall, and now his heart isn’t beating anymore, because he’s afraid that he’s not going to get it.

“Harry, have you got a time for me on that HMCG vessel?” Niall asks, snapping Harry back into the situation before he can let himself crumble to pieces.

“Ten minutes.” Harry tells him, letting himself go numb so that he doesn’t break instead. “So turn around and come back into port, Niall. You’ve helped him, but it’s time to let the professionals do their jobs. Don’t make more work for them.”

“I’ve handled worse storms, pet.” Niall sighs.

“The last time you were in a storm like this at sea, somebody died, Niall.” Harry replies icily. “Come back into port.”

“Harry– Pet– Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Niall says quietly. “Just– Just let me talk, yeah? I have to get this out.”

“Tell me when you get back to the bloody port!” Harry snaps.

“I can’t do that, pet.” Niall says gently. “You and I both know that I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can!” Harry chokes out. “You can come back! Nobody will blame you!”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I abandoned them, pet.” Niall responds, just like Harry already knew he would. “And I couldn’t live with myself if I don’t get this out. So, please– Please– Just let me say this.”

“I don’t want to hear it until you’re here with me.” Harry whispers, watching the Ram’s beacon get closer and closer to the one from the raft, closer and closer to the cliffs.

“I know, pet.” Niall murmurs. “But I have to say it anyways. Just in case. I can’t let myself risk not telling you just how much I love you. Because it’s a lot. It’s more than I ever thought that I could feel. I’ve loved you since we were ten years old, and you became my safe place. I was in a new country, with a father who was too drunk to tell his arse from his elbow half of the time, and barely bothered to feed me. But then I met you, and my whole life changed.

“I had a place that I could go to feel safe and cared for, because your family made me feel like one of their own better than my own family ever has. But, more than that, I had you. I had someone that made everything just a little bit brighter every time his stupid, beautiful, scowling face twitched up into a smile. I had someone who I adored with my whole heart, and, even if you’d have never said it then, returned that in full force.

“And you put me up on this pedestal back then, because I dragged you along with me and forced you to stop being so scared of everything. You were my hero, though. You saved me from the moment that we met, literally, and you kept doing it, like the hero I knew you were. You were my hero, because you actually became brave, and I only ever learned how to put on a brave face. I was always as scared as you ever were. I was too scared to tell you that I was in love with you, and that I think I have been since before I even knew what that meant.

“And I’ve made so many mistakes along the way, because I don’t ever think anything out. I’ve always been scared that I wouldn’t be brave enough to do anything if I really thought it through, so I rush into everything head first. I dove into dating Zayn, and I ran off in the middle of the night, and I showed up on your doorstep, without thinking about it before I did any of it. And I’ve rushed into this thing with you head first as well, but that’s not a mistake. It’s the best choice I’ve ever made, even though it’s scaring the both of us out of our minds.

“But I’ve done something without thinking it through again, and, in case that ends up going badly, I need you to know that I love- Fuck!”

Harry never hears the rest of what Niall had to say. He never gets to know what else Niall had to tell him, because the connection goes dead, and the signal from Niall’s boat goes out a few seconds later as the blinking dot that shows the Ram collides with the mapped line of the cliff and disappears.


	31. Chapter 31

Harry can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and he can’t think and he’s not even sure he’s alive until the fat, cold drops of rain start hitting his cheeks.

He has no memory of standing up. He has no memory of moving. He has no memory of running down the steps or stumbling out of the door or fishing the keys to Gemma’s car out of his pocket. The only thing in his mind is hearing Niall scream and then watching his signal go dead.

And the knowledge is there, in the back of his head, that what he’s doing is wrong. He can’t help himself though. He’s not even in control of his body anymore. It doesn’t matter that he might be condemning a child and his father to death. It doesn’t matter that he can’t do anything to help.

All that matters is that Niall might be gone, and Harry can’t fucking handle that.

Not now.

Not when everything was just finally fucking starting to get on track.

The engine protests his treatment of it, squeals and whines and whimpers as his foot presses the pedal down to the floor. It goes though. It goes faster and faster to accommodate his urging until everything outside of the windows is just a blur. Or that might be the tears in his eyes turning everything into green and grey and brown streaks that all smear together at the edge of his vision.

The road is clear though. The path he has to take is clear, because his goal is clear. He just has to get to the docks. If he gets there in time, then he’ll see Niall coming in on the Ram, and all of this will have just been a mistake.

Niall promised he wasn’t going anywhere this time, so all of this has to be a mistake.

Niall never lies to Harry.

That’s the simplest truth in Harry’s life. That’s his most important constant. Niall never lies to Harry, and that’s a constant, and he promised he isn’t going anywhere, so this is a mistake, and Harry will get to the docks and see Niall coming back into port.

He repeats it over and over and over, casts away all of his other constants to make room for this one. Niall never lies to Harry. That’s his constant. That’s the only one he needs now.

He only eases off of the accelerator once dirt is exchanged for stone, thanks the heavens that everyone seems to be inside to avoid the storm, because easing up doesn’t mean stopping. It barely means slowing down. It’s just enough of a reduction to allow him to take corners as he races through the village.

Of course, the last time that he’d driven this wildly, the last time that he’d been behind the wheel when he was this frenzied and unstable, it hadn’t ended well. He should know better by now.

History loves to repeat itself.

It’s a puddle that does it in the end. Just a simple, shallow puddle of water on an old, cratered stone road. Nothing more, and nothing less.

He tries to turn to slow the car once he gets near the docks, but the slide goes too fast. He feels the exact moment that everything explodes out of his control, and time seems to reduce to nothing more than a crawl as he watches his life spin out again.

Everything moves in slow motion as the wheels hit the curb and the car tilts. It flips, once, twice, three times, and Harry watches powerlessly as the frame crunches and the windshield implodes. He watches the sky and the ground switching places with a relentless, merciless glee. He watches as the car manages to land right way up, but the momentum sends his face into the steering wheel, and then he doesn’t have to watch anymore, because everything goes black.

 

_Harry’s not sure why he’s walked into the village. His father told him to go outside and get some air, rather than sitting around the house all day reading, but he could have stayed on the property. He could have wandered around the dozens of hectares of Styles land. He definitely didn’t have to walk the four kilometers into town_

_He doesn’t even like the village. There’s too many people, too many things going on that make his heart race and his eyes tear up. He doesn’t like the village, so he can’t figure out why his feet keep carrying him there like he’s just a magnet being pulled against his will._

_And, yeah, he’s got a book in his hand, like he always does, but that doesn’t mean that nobody will bother him. In fact, it’s almost a guarantee that they will. The other kids around the village love to bother him and pester him and bully him. They love to bruise his belly and tear up his books, and going into the village without Gemma to protect him, because she’s fourteen and hasn’t got time for her baby brother anymore, is like inviting that to happen._

_And yet, his stupid bloody feet are taking him to the village, and they won’t let him turn around._

_It’s overcast outside, the clouds heavy and grey, but Harry knows the difference between ‘overcast’ and ‘about to rain’. There’s a feeling in the air when a downpour is coming, and it’s not there yet. Other people don’t seem to care much, because nobody is at the beach despite the fact that it’s summer. That’s good, though. That means that nobody is likely to bother Harry._

_So he picks a spot right on the edge of the beach, up on some rocks so that he doesn’t have to deal with any bugs or sand finding its way into his lunch bag, and so that he’s not too close to the water. He doesn’t like to be too near the ocean, too many fears converging all at once, but he likes how it looks. He likes the murky green-blue color of the water under an overcast sky, and the sound of the waves, and the salty smell that rolls in with every surge. As long as he doesn’t have to be near the water, then everything is fine._

_It’s nice for a while. A tern lands a few feet from him at one point, and his terrified shriek subsequently scares it off. Harry doesn’t like birds. They freak him out, and they steal his food._

_Despite the bird incident, everything is pretty good for an hour or so. Harry munches mindlessly on carrot sticks while tearing through ‘Treasure Island’. He’s on the last chapter when it happens, when his peace is disturbed._

_The lad is loud as he runs onto the beach, giggling and shrieking as he dashes barefoot to the water’s edge. Harry doesn’t know what the other boy is thinking. The water must be freezing and the tide is coming in, but the boy doesn’t seem to care. He seems delighted just to run as far as he can down the beach, and then try to rush away before it can wash over his bare feet._

_He doesn’t seem familiar with the sea, though. He keeps trying to make it farther and farther past where he’s managed to get before, keeps trying to plant his footprints past his last mark, and obviously isn’t paying attention to the fact that the swells are coming in faster and stronger._

_Harry sees it coming before the other lad makes his go for the next rush, but he’s too far away, and he’s not very fast, even when he drops his book and runs for all he’s worth. The wave comes in faster and stronger than the boy must have expected, knocks him off balance and makes him fall face forward into the swell._

_Another wave is starting to crest already, but Harry is still too far away to do anything more than cry for help while he runs. The other boy gets dragged out further, thrashing and kicking against the water to no avail. He’s too small, and his clothes are too heavy now that they’re wet, which just helps the water as it tries to suck him in and claim him as its own_

_Harry reaches the boy just as the third wave starts to come at him, and grabs ahold of him with one hand while crouching down over him. He digs his free hand, along with his feet, into the sand and holds tight while the freezing water crashes into them both. As soon as it rolls back, Harry grabs the boy’s hand and staggers as fast as he can up and out of the range of the water with the boy scrambling on his hands and knees to follow behind. They collapse on the sand, the water licking up as close as it can to their feet in an attempt to reclaim its stolen prey, and pant heavily from the exertion._

_Harry wants to yell, wants to shout and scream and rant at this boy next to him about how big of a fool he is, but nothing comes out. Instead, the full weight of what he just did crashes into him, and the fear that he didn’t have time to feel before grips at him with icy cold claws. His chest goes tight, and his breath doesn’t seem to want to come to him, and all he can think about is that he could have died for some stranger._

_He crawls as fast as he’s able until he can manage to get to his feet, and then he wobbles forward on shaking legs. He doesn’t make it far, only a couple meters, before he falls back down to his knees. He anchors his fingers in the sand when the first sob chokes out of his throat, and he has to lock his elbows just to keep from collapsing as he begins to really cry from the terror that’s taking over him._

_He ran into the ocean when the tide was coming in. He touched a stranger. He acted without thinking in a way that could have cost him his life, and he doesn’t know why he did it, which may be the scariest part._

_“Mate, are you okay?” a voice asks behind him, voice thickly accented, accompanied by a hand gripping his shoulder._

_“Don’t!” Harry chokes out, flinching away from the boy’s touch. “Don’t touch me!”_

_“Alright.” the lad says slowly, pulling his hand away. “Do you need me to go get somebody?”_

_“Nobody will come.” Harry whimpers, dropping back into a sitting position and wrapping his arms tight around his waist. This way, it almost feels like someone is holding him, keeping him safe, and it helps alleviate the pressure in his chest. It’s what he always has to do if he gets too worked up, and his mother isn’t there to help. “Nobody comes for me anymore. They didn’t even come when I called for help for you.”_

_“Well, they sound like twats.” the boy hums, making Harry’s eyes go wide at the coarse language. “Fuck ‘em, yeah?”_

_“That’s a bad word!” Harry gasps, flushing brightly at the thought of anyone overhearing this._

_“Fuck those as well.” the other boy says with a wide, crooked-toothed grin. “’M Niall. Who’re you?”_

_“I’m Harry.” he mumbles, releasing his grip on himself only long enough to stand up before he’s holding back on again for dear life. Niall sticks out his hand, presumably to shake Harry’s, but he makes no move to take it, instead shaking his head and heading back to the spot where he’s left his things and muttering, “Stay out of the water until the tide goes back out.”_

_“What should I do, then?” Niall asks, following next to Harry._

_“Not my problem.” Harry tells him upon reaching the rock with his lunch bag and his book. “But I’m leaving, so nobody will be here to help you if you get pulled out into the water again.”_

_“Why are you leaving?” Niall asks._

_“Because it’s a long walk home.” Harry sighs._

_Why does this kid ask so many questions?_

_“How far?” Niall asks, continuing his onslaught._

_“I live there.” Harry says, turning and pointing up towards the cliffs on the other side of the small bay that constitutes the port of St. Bath._

_Small village, small port, small bay. Everything about this place is small, except Harry’s house. Even though it’s mostly hidden from view by the hills, you can still see the very tip of the roof. Harry’s family likes to remind everyone in this little place just how very big they are._

_“You’ll catch cold if you try to walk all the way there in wet clothes.” Niall says quietly. “Wait here until they dry, or you’ll get sick.”_

_“What do you care?” Harry snaps, unnerved by the boy’s change in demeanor._

_He must be playing a trick. Harry doesn’t recognize him, and his accent is different, but if he’s here, he must live in the village. One of the other kids must have put him up to this. The kids in the village love finding new ways to hurt Harry, and he has no interest in playing along just to find out what Niall’s plan is._

_“I don’t like seeing people do things that’ll hurt them.” Niall mumbles. “And you saved me. I don’t really know how to swim.”_

_“Then don’t play in the ocean until you do.” Harry huffs._

_“Okay.” Niall says with a nod. “And you don’t go walking home in cold, wet clothes.”_

_“How will sitting around in ‘cold, wet clothes’ be any better?” Harry asks, rolling his eyes._

_“Well, you don’t keep them on, silly.” Niall snorts, stripping off his vest and laying it out on the rocks before wiggling out of his shorts and doing the same with them. He turns to Harry with a wide smile and says, “Now you.”_

_“No!” Harry squawks, flushing so deeply that he can feel his whole body warm up from it. “You’re not tricking me so you can steal my clothes!”_

_“What would I want with your clothes?” Niall asks, sitting down next to his kit. “I have my own clothes, and they fit me. I don’t think yours would.”_

_“I don’t know what you guys do with them!” Harry hisses. “Probably throw them in the water or something! Who put you up to this? Was it James? Or William?”_

_“I don’t know who those are.” Niall says simply. “Why are you so twitchy?”_

_“Because people like you do things like steal my clothes, and ruin my books, and shove my face in the dirt, and kick me!” Harry yells, stomping his foot. “I’m tired of it! I’m tired of being picked on!”_

_“Whoever does that to you is an arse.” Niall hums. “You should be mad at them, not me.”_

_“You are one of them!” Harry growls. “Every kid in this village does those things to me!”_

_“Haz– Can I call you Haz?” Niall questions._

_“No.” Harry grumbles._

_“Haz-” Niall grins, ignoring the scowl that Harry shoots at him. “I just moved here last week with my father. I don’t know any other kids here. I haven’t met anyone besides you, and the lady that runs the pub. I don’t know why people are mean to you, but that’s not me. I’m no bully.”_

_“Everyone is a bully.” Harry mutters. “Everyone likes to hurt people that are weaker than them.”_

_“Do you?” Niall asks._

_“Nobody is weaker than me.” Harry whispers._

_“I am.” Niall argues. “You’re bigger than me. You were strong enough to keep from getting pulled out in the water, but I wasn’t. Does that mean you’re going to hurt me?”_

_“No.” Harry tells him. “I wouldn’t do that.”_

_“Then you just proved yourself wrong.” Niall hums._

_“That’s not– I didn’t– Shut up!” Harry huffs, glaring towards the smirking boy at his feet and kicking a bit of sand at him._

_“You’re going to get sick if you keep standing around in those clothes.” Niall says, apparently unfazed by Harry’s outburst._

_“Don’t steal them.” Harry sighs, peeling off his shirt and trousers to lay them out like Niall had. “I don’t want to walk home in my pants. My father will get mad at me.”_

_“I told you, I don’t need your clothes.” Niall chuckles._

_Harry says nothing, sitting down with his back to the other boy and picking back up his book. Truth is, he’s actually warming up now that his clothes aren’t on anymore, and he does feel better for it, but he doesn’t want Niall to know that._

_“That’s a big book.” Niall says, peering over Harry’s shoulder._

_“Not particularly.” Harry mumbles._

_“How long have you been reading it?” Niall asks._

_“A couple of hours.” Harry says with a shrug._

_“You’re lying.” Niall says, narrowing his eyes. “A book that big would take days to read.”_

_“I read a lot, and I read fast.” Harry tells him. “I like to read.”_

_“How old are you?” Niall asks suspiciously._

_“I’m ten.” Harry admits._

_“So am I, and I couldn’t read a book that fast.” Niall huffs._

_“Do you even like to read?” Harry questions._

_“I prefer footy.” Niall says with a shrug._

_“That’s why.” Harry explains. “You could read more, faster, if you spent time reading. It’s just like footy. If you do it enough, you’ll get better at it.”_

_“I’ve never met anyone who reads for fun.” Niall says quietly._

_“Now you have.” Harry huffs. “And I’d like to get back to it.”_

_“If you want.” Niall sighs._

_So Harry does. He tries, anyways. And Niall is quiet, Harry can tell that he’s trying not to bother him, but it’s not helping. His very presence is distracting, even though all he’s doing is silently drawing shapes in the sand with his finger._

_Unlike Harry, Niall isn’t paying much attention to the lad beside him. He isn’t really paying attention to what he’s doing either, though. His eyes aren’t really focused on what he’s doing, and he looks like his mind is somewhere else. That gives Harry a chance to really see him for the first time, and the first thing that he notices is that Niall is skinny. Not just thin, like Harry, but so skinny that his ribs can all be seen individually and his joints are all knobby._

_“Here.” Harry says quietly, pulling what’s left of his lunch out of his bag. “It’s just a cheese sandwich, but-”_

_“Cheers.” Niall laughs, grabbing the sandwich out of Harry’s hand and taking a huge bite before he can even finish the sentence. “Holy bollocks, that’s good.”_

_“Our cook likes to experiment with different kinds of cheese.” Harry explains with a shrug. “It’ll probably make your breath smell really bad.”_

_“I don’t care.” Niall laughs with his mouth half full. It’s gross, but Harry doesn’t mind so much for some reason. “It’s feckin delicious, and it’s not like anybody is smelling my breath.”_

_“You curse a lot.” Harry points out sheepishly._

_“Bobby doesn’t mind.” Niall mumbles between bites._

_“Who’s Bobby?” Harry questions._

_“He’s my father.” Niall sighs before stuffing the last bit of the sandwich in his mouth and swallowing it down._

_“You call your dad by his first name?” Harry asks disbelievingly. “I could never do that!”_

_“I have my reasons.” Niall mutters, returning his finger to the sand and his focus to wherever it was before, judging by the look in his eyes. “He dragged me here from my home. The least he can do is not care if I call him by his name.”_

_“Do– Do you want to talk about it?” Harry offers reluctantly._

_Harry doesn’t want to get taken in by this kid, but the more he looks, the more he sees something that he recognizes. Niall is alone. He’s alone, and he’s sad, and he’s just like Harry. Harry has his family, yeah, but he’s alone. Niall has his father, but it feels like he’s alone too._

_“I thought you wanted to read.” Niall says quietly._

_“I can read later.” Harry says with a shrug. “Besides, I’ve already read this one before.”_

_“Mad one, you are.” Niall snorts. “But, if you say so-”_

_Niall launches into what appears to literally be his life story, and Harry sets down his book to listen. And Niall is captivating, even more so than any book that Harry has ever read. He smiles and laughs and tells stories about all the kinds of mischief that he’s gotten into, and Harry listens well past when their clothes dry out and they put them back on. He listens until the sun starts to set, and he has to head home before his mum starts to worry._

_And when Niall offers to walk with him, Harry doesn’t object. In fact, despite the frown he’s got his mouth turned down in, he appreciates it. He doesn’t want to stop listening to Niall until he absolutely has to. This is the longest anyone has ever wanted to be around him in his whole life. His father doesn’t spend much time with him, and his mother tries to make time for him every day, but she’s a busy woman, and Gemma is just too big to care about him._

_But Niall seems to enjoy Harry’s company. Niall acts like he cares what Harry has to say whenever he tries to contribute, and that’s more than anyone else has ever done for him. The way he smiles, and laughs, and slings his arm over Harry’s shoulder while walking up on his toes, Harry might even believe it’s true._

_When they get to the edge of the village where the road turns to dirt and leads up into the Styles’ land, Harry breathes a heavy sigh of regret. He knows that Niall needs to turn around and hurry home before his own father worries about him, and the thought of Niall leaving makes Harry’s stomach churn for some reason._

_And he doesn’t really understand it when he thrusts his book out in front of him and mumbles, “Here. Take this. You’ll like it. It’s about pirates.”_

_“It might take me a while.” Niall tells him, taking the book out of Harry’s hand. “I can’t read as fast as you.”_

_“You’ll get faster.” Harry mutters._

_“I’ll be at the beach again tomorrow, if you want to come down.” Niall offers._

_“I’ll teach you how to swim.” Harry nods._

_“Or we can just have fun.” Niall laughs. “Hey, Haz?”_

_“I told you not to call me that.” Harry huffs, scowling at the boy in front of him._

_“It’ll grow on you.” Niall hums. “I won’t lie to you, if you don’t lie to me, okay?”_

_“O-Okay.” Harry agrees, unsure of where that came from._

_Niall steps forward and wrapping his arms around Harry’s whole body, burying his face in Harry’s neck, and mumbles, “We’re going to be best mates forever. I can tell. So you show up tomorrow, yeah?”_

_“Fine!” Harry squawks. “Just get off of me!”_

_“Bye, Haz!” Niall beams, stepping back and giving a little wave with his hand before running back in the opposite direction back into the village with Harry’._

_“Bye, Niall.” Harry whispers, even though the other boy is already too far gone to hear him._

_Once Niall rounds a corner and disappears from sight, Harry lets his frown tilt up into a smile. It feels weird, because it refuses to go away for the rest of Harry’s walk home, despite the fact that there’s nothing left to make him smile now that Niall’s gone._

_In fact, it stays on his lips for the rest of the night, not even fading when Gemma makes fun of him and says that he must have been replaced by a robot. It even lasts once he falls asleep, and when he dreams, he dreams of his first friend._

 

The first thing that Harry sees when he opens his eyes is Niall. His face is red, and his eyes are watery, and he looks terrified, but he’s there. As the memory of what happened hits him though, Harry’s thoughts turn from elation to sadness. If Harry and Niall are in the same place, there’s only one explanation.

“Looks like– I followed you– right to– the end– huh?” Harry asks, his voice thick and his lungs barely able to take in enough air to say the words. “All the– way to– the other– side.”

“You’re not dead, you bleeding idiot.” Niall chokes out, stroking his hand on Harry’s cheek. “And neither am I.”

“But-” Harry starts, only to wince when his head throbs painfully as his body rocks violently on whatever he’s being held down to. The vision in his right eye goes blurry, but he needs to understand what’s happening more than he needs to talk about that. “I saw – your beacon – disappear.”

“A wave sent the ram into the cliff, but I abandoned ship before it could happen.” Niall says softly. “Jumped overboard when the wave was cresting, and then swam to the life-raft. If you’d just stayed where you were supposed to, you would have known that within a few minutes after the crash, you idiot.”

“Sorry.” Harry croaks out.

“When we found you in that car, I- I thought you were dead.” Niall whispers.

“Guess– we’re even.” Harry says with a forced chuckle. It hurts, makes his whole body tighten and tremble with pain, but he keeps on a brave face for Niall. “I thought– that you– were dead– too.”

“I should have turned around.” Niall breathes out. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m so, so sorry. You were right, and I-”

“Shh.” Harry tells him. He tries to reach up, but his arms are bound by his side, so the most he can do is stroke his finger on Niall’s leg. “No time– for that. I need– to say– something.”

“No. You need to save your strength. We’ll be to the hospital soon.” Niall tells him. “Just a few more minutes, and you’ll be okay.”

“I’m not going to be okay, Niall.” Harry forces himself to say all in one go.

“Yes you are.” Niall insists, his eyes turning hard and defiant.

“No, I’m not. I can’t see at all out of my right eye now, and my head hurts so badly it feels like a knife is in there. I know what’s happening. I’m bleeding in my brain, and that’s just my head. The rest of my body is even worse.” Harry admits. “I’m not going to be okay, so I need to say this before I can’t anymore.”

“Don’t.” Niall pleads weakly. “Don’t say that. You’re going to be okay.”

“I love you, Niall.” Harry continues anyways. “I’ve loved you since we were kids, and I’m so glad that you came back. I’m glad that I got to be with you, even if it was only for a little while. I wish it could have been longer, but at least we had this. I’d rather have had this short time with you again, than lived another eighty years like I was before.

“I stopped being alive when you left and my parents died, and I didn’t start to breathe again until you showed up at the market. And, I was so scared, but I’m not scared anymore. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Bad things happen, but so do good things, and you’re my good thing. You’re my silver lining, and I’m so happy that I got to have you back before this happened.

“It’s getting too hard to stay awake anymore, so I need you to tell the others that I loved them. Tell Gemma that I want her to have my money split between you two, and also Liam and Louis. I don’t have a will, which seems stupid now, but she should know what to do.”

“I don’t want your money. I want you.” Niall says gently.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you that.” Harry smiles. “But I did finally come up with a pet name for you. It’s ‘N.S.’”

“What’s that?” Niall asks. “Niall’s stupid?”

“North Star.” Harry breathes out. “Because you’re how I found my way back to who I was. I didn’t even know I was the one who needed to find my way back home until you showed me that I was lost. You’re my guiding light.”

“I love you, pet.” Niall says quietly.

“I love you too, N.S.” Harry whispers before he slips down into the blackness that’s been clawing at him since he opened his eyes.

 

The funeral is on a Sunday. It’s a grey day, pissing down rain to match the storm that’s brewing in Niall’s heart. Even inside the Styles family mausoleum, a chill can be felt when Niall steps up to address the few people gathered in front of him.

“Harry Styles was a stubborn arse.” Niall starts, drawing a few gasps from the crowd. “He was stubborn, and he was angry, and I loved him more than I even knew was possible. Not many people really knew him, even among those of us he trusted, but I was lucky enough to have that privilege. I was lucky enough to be allowed to love him, even after all of the pain that I caused him, and there’s no way to put into words how grateful I am that I was.

“Harry spent most of his life being misunderstood by the people around him, but more than that, he misunderstood himself. He thought that he was weak, but he was the strongest person that I’ve ever known. He was brave, and he was fierce, and he loved more completely than most of us will ever deserve. He sacrificed his own happiness to try and make the world a better place for the people around him. He hurt himself over and over again for our sakes.

“I wish that I could have had the opportunity to return all of the love that he gave me, but now I never will. All I can do is hope that I do enough good in the world with the rest of the time I have to deserve that love, and be half the person he thought I was.”

He had more planned, more that he wanted to say, but his throat can’t seem to form anymore words to slip past the tight knot of emotion lodged inside it. Nothing he could say would be enough, anyways. Words aren’t Niall’s strong suit. He prefers actions, but there’s no action he can take now. Nothing he can do will fix this, or bring Harry back.

Liam steps up and takes Niall by the arm to lead him back to his seat. He spends the rest of the service only half listening to what everyone else has to say, clinging to Liam and Gemma’s hands when they offer them.

When it’s time to leave, Niall doesn’t take the proposals to go home with either of them so that he doesn’t have to be alone. He stays right where he is, standing with his palm held to the plaque that lists the short span of Harry’s life until the sun sets and his throat is too dry to form any more goodbyes.

He walks back to the cottage alone, picking up Amanda when she curls around his leg and carrying her to the bed. The smell of Harry on the pillows is the only thing that’s allowed him to sleep since the doctor came out and told all of them that Harry didn’t make it, and it only works tonight once Niall has cried himself into exhaustion.

Niall wakes up to the raucous shrieking of sea birds. From now on, he always will.

 

 

The end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What the hell is this?” Niall yells, startling Harry awake from his kip when something heavy smacks down against the bedside table.

“Um-” Harry says sleepily, looking at the thick manuscript that Niall is pointing at. “My book?”

“And what the hell is that ending, Harry?” Niall growls. “Why did you write yourself dying?”

“It made for a better ending.” Harry mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. He’s definitely not going to get any more sleep when Niall is like this. “What’s wrong?”

“I hate it.” Niall huffs, crawling into the bed and curling himself around Harry. “It’s a shite ending.”

“I worked hard on that.” Harry pouts.

“The real ending is better.” Niall mutters, burying his fingers in Harry’s jumper and nuzzling his face into Harry’s neck.

“Nobody would ever want to read about someone going through a year of physical therapy and relearning to walk and talk properly.” Harry sighs.

“I’ve had nightmares about that accident and what could have happened to you for the last year and a half.” Niall mumbles. “I wake up in the middle of the night, and I can’t fall back asleep until I know you’re okay. Reading that– It– It scares me, because it makes me feel like you wish that you’d been right when you said you weren’t going to make it in the back of that ambulance, pet.”

“That’s not why I wrote it like that, Niall.” Harry tells him. “I just– I had to die, okay? I had to die so that I could close that chapter of my life, and start a new one. I know that probably doesn’t make sense to you, but I needed to do it. I’m sorry if it upsets you, but it’s helped me. I don’t wish that I was right, though. I don’t wish that I’d died. I get to spend the rest of my life with you, and I’m not taking that for granted. I just needed to kill the old me so that the new one could move on. I needed to end that life so that I could start this one.”

“I still hate it.” Niall huffs.

“I’m right here.” Harry whispers, wrapping his arms around Niall and pressing a kiss to his temple. “You don’t have to worry.”

“You’re going to have to edit that down before you shop it out to publishers.” Niall sighs. “I can’t have my mum reading about our sex life. Very graphic, by the way.”

“I’m not sending it to publishers.” Harry admits.

“What the fuck?” Niall asks incredulously, drawing back enough to look Harry in the eyes. “You’ve been working on that book for months. What do you mean, you’re ‘not sending it to publishers’?”

“That book is my story. Our story.” Harry shrugs. “It’s not for anyone else. It’s for me, and for you, but not the entire world.”

“You’re daft.” Niall snorts. “You’re a complete knob.”

“I’m your knob, though.” Harry hums, teasing his fingers down Niall’s side. “Besides, you know what it means you can do, now that I’ve finished the book?”

“We can finally start planning the bloody wedding?” Niall asks.

“We can finally start planning the bloody wedding.” Harry nods.

“You’re going to pay out the arse for it, now.” Niall smirks. “You kept me waiting all this time just so you could finish this, and you aren’t even going to publish it. This wedding is going to be the biggest party this village has ever seen.”

“That’s not saying much.” Harry snorts.

“I’m going to ride an elephant down the aisle.” Niall hums thoughtfully.

“If that’s what you want.” Harry chuckles.

“Or we could just have Liam get certified online, and go down to the beach with him, Louis and Gemma, and knock it out this weekend.” Niall offers. “Been waiting long enough, and I don’t really think I want to wait any longer than I have to, to make you my husband.”

“Whatever you want, N.S.” Harry grins.

“Those’ll be my initials soon.” Niall whispers, butting his forehead against Harry’s. “You ready for that?”

“I’ve been ready for it since I was ten years old.” Harry breathes out, pressing his lips against Niall’s.

Harry’s life has changed so much in the last year and a half. They’ve moved down from the cottage to the mansion, and then from there into a house in the village, because Harry had too much trouble with stairs after the accident to keep running the lighthouse. They’ve got another member of the family now, a small calico kitten that Niall found in the garden and named Beckham, much to Harry’s dismay. He sees Liam and Louis and Gemma almost every day, and he doesn’t mind that at all.

Niall runs his store, and Harry helps him out when he can, though he still gets tired rather quickly sometimes. There’s a chair in the store’s closet that he kips in quite a bit. He’s got one of Niall’s rings around his neck, another on his finger, and they’ll be joined by a third soon enough. He doesn’t wear his scarf over his face when he goes out into the village anymore, because Niall makes sure that Harry never gets far enough into his own head to feel bad about how he looks.

A lot has changed, but one thing has stayed the same. Harry still has his constants. Only one of them really matters, though.

He wakes up every morning next to Niall, and spends every day just a little bit happier than the last because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had you going for a minute there, didn't I? I'm an asshole, but I'm not that big of a monster. I'm a sucker for a happy ending. I always have been, and I probably always will be.
> 
> I hope you guys liked this story, and I'm so grateful to everyone who stuck around through all of it to reach the end. You guys are awesome, and, as Amanda, a.k.a. the whole reason this fic even exists, would say, you're all rockstars. Normally I go off on a whole tangent when I finish a fic, but I'm just going to leave it at that.


End file.
